X Wing: Resurrection of a Rogue
by LaneWinree51
Summary: Having traversed beyond the borders of the Galaxy for six years, Darvix Zorvan returns to see the New Republic in ruins. At the behest of Wedge Antilles, Darvix returns to Rogue Squadron to save the unit. Meanwhile in the shadows, Phantom echoes are heard
1. Introduction and Dramatis Personae

**X-WING: RESURRECTION OF A ROGUE**  
_Part III of the DAP ZORVAN Trilogy_

**Disclaimer:** Nope, I don't own Star Wars. Characters belong to George Lucas, Timothy Zahn, Michael Stackpole, and Aaron Allston.

**A note from the author:** Resurrection of a Rogue is the third part of a trilogy of fics surrounding original character Darvix Zorvan. The first two fics (_X-Wing: Rise of a Rogue_ and _Star Wars: Redemption of the Exiles_) can be found in my profile. You will probably want to read those fics before reading this.

This fic will update every Monday-Friday.

_**Dramatis Personae**_

With the Rogues:

• Lieutenant Colonel Jaina Solo (Rogue One, Rogue Leader)(Human Female from Coruscant)(Rogue Squadron CO)  
• Major Darvix "Dap" Zorvan (Rogue Eleven)(Human Male from Nar Shaada)(Rogue Squadron XO)  
• Major Lane "Ace" Azzameen(Rogue Six)(Human Male from Azzameen Home Base)  
• Major Inyri Forge(Rogue Three)(Human Female from Kessel)  
• Major Pash Cracken(Rogue Four)(Human Male from Contruum)  
• Major Ooryl Qyrrg(Rogue Ten)(Gand Male from Gand)  
• Major Cheriss ke Hanadi(Rogue Five)(Human Female from Adumar)  
• Captain Kral Nevil (Rogue Two)(Quarren Male from Mon Calamari)  
• Lieutenant Lensi(Rogue Twelve)(Duros male from Duro)  
• Flight Officer Erim Zess (Rogue Seven)(Human Male from Corellia)  
• Flight Officer Haruko Skobra(Rogue Eight)(Human Female from Coruscant)  
• Flight Officer Kasari Lisae(Rogue Nine)(Human Female from Iattu IV)

Support Personnel:

• Commander Lysa Chanaan(Tactical)(Quartermaster)  
• Second-Lieutenant Vikan "Vik" Kelrune(Astrogations)(Reserve Pilot)

With The New Republic Military  
• General Wedge Antilles(Ret.)  
• Colonel Tycho Celchu(Ret.)  
• Major Wes Janson(Ret.)  
• Major Hobbie Klivian(Ret.)


	2. Return of the Exile

**Prologue – Return of the Exile**  
_30 ABY – Coruscant System_

All was quiet in the space surrounding Coruscant. Save for a few supply transports lumbering their way towards the planet's surface, there was little activity to speak of. Only a handful of years earlier, no one would have ever predicted the inactivity in this system. Coruscant was once a bustling hub of business and commerce. Ships from all parts of the Galaxy ventured to Coruscant to engage in business and politics. No longer was this the case.

Coruscant was a shell of its former self. The Yuzhaan Vong had laid waste to the planet, destroying its spanning metropolis in favor of terraforming. The sprawling buildings were destroyed; the vast transportation systems were vaporized. With Coruscant and many of her sister worlds destroyed, the New Republic ceased to exist. In its place the Galactic Alliance was born. It was decided that Coruscant was to be rebuilt to serve as the new government's central hub. However, with the disaster that the Yuzhaan Vong had unleashed on the entire Galaxy, rebuilding Coruscant became a low priority. For now, it sat in its terraformed state; a jungle wasteland built atop a once sprawling metropolis.

When the crew of an aging GR-75 Gallofree transport exited hyperspace into the Coruscant system, it's crew could hardly believe the fate that had occurred to the once prosperous planet. On the bridge of the transport, the captain stood from his seat and slowly walked towards the forward viewport. His two crewmembers could only stare at the image before them, dumbfounded. This was not the Coruscant they remembered. What had happened in the six years they had spent away from the known Galaxy?

"Give me a status report," the Captain barked. "What the hell am I looking at!?"

"Everything checks out!" the man sitting at the astrogations console said. "The coordinates are right, this is Coruscant!"

"Do you see a planet-wide city full of prostitutes and politicians down there?" the Captain demanded. "I sure don't! I'm looking at a jungle that is decidedly _devoid_ of prostitutes and politicians!"

"Stow it, will you?" the woman sitting at the communications console snapped. "We should be trying to get in contact with someone right now."

The captain slumped down into his command chair, "Get me in contact with Yavin IV."

"No response," the woman replied. "Yavin IV doesn't appear to have an active subspace transponder."

"Well fantastic," the Captain groaned. "We've been on a merry little journey outside of the Galaxy for the last six years, we come home and no one wants to say hello."

"What should we do?"

The Captain thought for a moment before responding, "We're out of fuel and provisions, so it's safe to say we're in trouble. Send out a distress signal using communications program DAP-Three-Nine-Alpha."

"What is that going to accomplish?" the man at the astrogations console asked.

"It's an old Rogue Squadron distress frequency," the Captain replied. "That should get someone's attention in a hurry."

The Captain stood up again and walked towards the bridge's exit, "Whoever did this to Coruscant may be good, but there's no chance in hell they brought General Antilles down with it. When you get a response from him come grab me. I'll be in the flight simulator."

***

* * *

**Tatooine Star System**

In the days of the Galactic Civil War, it wasn't an unusual sight to see Imperial Star Destroyers orbiting the planet of Tatooine. Since the Battle of Endor, however, the sightings of the menacing Imperial capital ships were few and far in between. Occasionally the _Errant Venture_ would make an appearance, but other than that the space traffic heading towards Tatooine was limited to smuggler freighters and starfighters belonging to bounty hunters. Things began to change after the Yuzhaan Vong War.

The Galactic Alliance began using Tatooine as a temporary "recovery area" for the fleet. The remnants of the military gathered to assess the damage the war had done. Soldiers and officers took stock of their lives and tried to put the horrors of war behind them. Tatooine became a gathering place for survivors of the war, where families would determine whether their loved ones had lived or had been killed in combat. The tattered remains of the armed forces were reassigned to new squadrons and platoons before they were sent outwards to help rebuild the destroyed worlds within the Galaxy.

By now, most of the fleet had left Tatooine on new assignments. A handful of star ships remained in the system, including one Imperial Class-II Star Destroyer: The _Mon Mothma_. This particular ship was slightly different than most other star cruisers in the fleet: it had been converted into a hybrid military/civilian transport. The families of crew members who had been displaced by the war had taken residence on board the ship alongside their kin who continued to serve the military. Among the units assigned to the _Mon Mothma_, one noticeable name stood out. The legendary Rogue Squadron.

Through the years, Rogue Squadron had been known as the greatest fighting unit the Rebel Alliance and the New Republic featured. They were known for accomplishing the impossible. Their pilots had helped to bring down both Death Stars and had toppled the Imperial government in Coruscant. The squadron proved to be instrumental in bringing down Warlord Zsinj, Ysanne Issard, and Grand Admiral Thrawn. A handful of the Rogue's best thwarted the Imperial Remnant's attempt to create an arms contract with Adumar.

Despite the impressive resume, Rogue Squadron was currently classified as a defunct squadron. The Yuzhaan Vong War had gutted the roster, sustaining some of the heaviest loss within the military at the time. Most of the survivors chose to retire rather than face another tour of duty with the squadron. Pilots felt that the squadron had become cursed. Many refused assignment postings with the Rogues for fear of their lives. If you wished to stay among the living, you didn't take an assignment to join Rogue Squadron.

That perception decimated the roster further. As it stood, only three pilots were assigned to the "cursed" squadron. Without a full roster, the three weren't permitted to fly. Despite that, they remained members of the defunct squadron. As punishment for refusing to accept other assignments, they were doomed to a life of paperwork and trivial affairs. It was only fitting that at the moment the distress signal arrived, they were in the squadron's briefing room sorting through military documents.

"Did you find those triplicate copies of the Oh-Nine-Alphas?" a male Duros sitting by the holo projector asked.

"I found them," a male Quarren replied as he hunched over another datapad. "I put them under the stack Eight-Oh-Thetas."

The door to the briefing room slid open as the two pilots fumbled through another stack of datapads. The third pilot still assigned to Rogue Squadron stepped in and assumed her usual seat beside the announcement podium.

"Morning, boss," the Quarren greeted the new pilot.

"Good morning, Nevil," the human female responded with a half-smile.

"You look like hell, Colonel Solo," the Duros said as he looked up at his commanding officer. "Another late-night comm call from Durron?"

"That's none of your business, Lieutenant Lensi," Lieutenant Colonel Jaina Solo replied, a look of annoyance on her face

"I thought she was getting late night comm calls from Fel lately," Nevil replied.

"I don't know," Lensi admitted. "Every time I try to follow her love life I get a headache the size of a Hutt. Figuring out which one of us is going to win the squadron pool is going to be an absolute-"

"Attention: Lieutenant Colonel Jaina Solo, there is an emergency transmission inbound," The PA suddenly went off. "Repeat. Lieutenant Colonel Jaina Solo, there is an emergency transmission inbound. Report to the nearest decrypted communications terminal."

"What's this?" Nevil asked. "Something not paperwork related? I didn't sign up for this. I demand to see my union representative!"

Jaina rolled her eyes, "Shut up, Nevil."

"Why the hell are we getting an emergency transmission?" Lensi asked. "Shouldn't this be directed at one of the active-duty squadrons?"

Jaina stood up and strode towards the holoprojector, entering in a series of commands to patch it through the ship's communications array, "Lets see if we can find out where this communication is coming from."

The holoprojector came to life. A star map came into focus and quickly it began the process of locating the position in which the emergency transmission was issued. Jaine tilted her head to the side as the projector brought up an image of the Coruscant star system. That was restricted space, and it appeared that the transmission was coming from a civilian vessel. What in the world was it doing in a high security sector?

"Colonel you'd better take a look at this," Nevil said.

Jaina peeled her eyes away from the star chart, "What is it Captain?"

"It's the identifier associated with this distress signal," Nevil replied. "This shouldn't be in the hands of a civilian transport."

"What do you mean?" Jaina asked.

"It's a military encryption," Nevil continued, "but get this: whoever is sending the distress signal is identifying themselves as 'Rogue Eleven' of the New Republic Starfighter group Rogue Squadron."

"They're using one of our encryption keys?"

"Not one I've ever seen before," Nevil shook his head.

"I just ran a search on the old Rogue Squadron logs," Lensi said. "This is one of our encryption keys, but we haven't used it in years. Last time it was in active rotation was the Phantom Fighter crisis."

"Someone go find General Antilles," Jaina ordered.

"What good is that going to do?" Lensi asked. "We should probably tell Alliance command to send a scout unit out there."

"Do that too," Jaina said. "For now find General Antilles. I want this message decoded and I don't have the decryption files to do it.

"You think Antilles does?" Nevil asked.

"I'd hope so," Jaina said. "He was Rogue Squadron's commanding officer during the Phantom crisis, after all. If anyone has the decryption key it's him."

***

* * *

Wedge Antilles hadn't quite adjusted to civilian life. He would wake up in the morning and reach for his datapad, expecting to see the day's checklist from his superiors. Instead all he found were the news feeds. When he went to the closet to grab his uniform, he realized that it was hanging on his wall in a commemorative frame. Instead of grabbing a ration bar before reporting to debriefing, he could sit down and enjoy breakfast with his family, just like in a holo-sitcom.

Wedge hadn't quite adjusted, but he was certainly enjoying the retired life.

As Wedge enjoyed a breakfast of toast and juice (a rare commodity on a Star Destroyer), he glanced at his family members sitting around the table. Iella was reading through the entertainment sections of the newsfeed. Celebrity gossip seemed to be one of her few guilty pleasures. In Wedge's eyes, the years had been extraordinarily kind to her. Despite the horrors she had seen during her service in both CorSec and the New Republic Intelligence division, she had managed to maintain her appearance, sanity, and health.

Sitting across from him were his two daughters. His youngest, Myri, was staring idly at the plate of eggs in front of her. She had always been a picky eater, but the last few weeks had been especially excruciating. Myri refused to eat anything but Bantha burgers from the ship's mess hall. It had gotten to the point that Wedge had to either threaten to take away her collection of dolls or bribe her with candy while Iella wasn't looking.

Next to Myri was Wedge's eldest daughter, Syal. She had just turned fourteen and was the consummate teenager. Even as they enjoyed breakfast, Syal had her datapad atop the table, sending an electronic message to one of her friends. Was she communicating with one of her friends from class, or was it that damned Tainer boy again? Either way, Wedge would have to speak to Syal about that. As far as he was concerned, breakfast was one of the few times his family had to sit down together.

Just as Wedge was about to take another bite of his toast, the door chime rang.

"Syal, could you go get the door?" Iella asked.

"Just a minute, mom," Syal replied.

"_Now,_ Syal."

Syal frowned and stood, making her way to the door and opening it, "Dad, it's for you."

Wedge set down the mug of caf in his hand and made his way towards the door. He was slightly surprised to see Kral Nevil, Executive Officer of Rogue Squadron, standing there. Wedge began to think about the possibilities that would result in Nevil visiting him. Either this was a military related matter, or Nevil was selling cookies door-to-door. Wedge somewhat doubted the feasibility of the latter option.

"General-" Nevil began.

"Wedge," he corrected. "Or Mr. Antilles if that's too formal."

"Excuse me?"

"Civilians don't have fancy military titles," Wedge explained. "Ergo, you shouldn't use a fancy military title when speaking to me."

"With all due respect, sir," Nevil replied, "not referring to you in proper military title would most likely doom me to the seventh circle of piloting hell."

Wedge could only roll his eyes, "Something I can do for you, Mr. Nevil?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what would that be, Captain?" Wedge raised a brow.

"It's, uh," Nevil stammered, "classified, sir."

"Should I bring my caf?" Wedge asked as his shoulders slumped.

"I would if I were you."

***

* * *

Jaina watched as Wedge Antilles poured over the information concerning the distress signal. She had to admit that it was strange knowing that Wedge wasn't a member of the military anymore. He had been a staple of the New Republic armed forces during her entire life. Not a day went by that she didn't hear about the exploits of the Great Wedge Antilles from her parents or Uncle Luke. After becoming a member of Rogue Squadron, she experienced first-hand the legacy of Wedge Antilles. The unit he had built was the de facto combat squadron prior to and through the Vong War. Even after handing daily command of Rogue Squadron over to Gavin Darklighter, Wedge had remained a prominent figure in the New Republic military. Without his leadership, the war could have turned drastically for the worse.

Perhaps that's why Jaina had a hard time coming to grips with the retired Wedge Antilles. Such a legendary figure wasn't supposed to enjoy a normal, civilian life.

"This might take a little while," Wedge said. "One of my pilots developed this particular encryption key during the Phantom Fighter campaign. Pretty good slicer, but a loose cannon if you ever saw one. Looks like he went a little overboard with this particular key…must be a few thousand layers for my decryption code to authorize."

"I never did understand why a commanding officer would want a slicer in the squadron," Jaina admitted. "Especially if it's at the expense of combat ability."

"The minute you run into a situation that calls for a slicer," Wedge explained, "you'll understand why I found them to be so useful... How's the roster reconstruction going?"

Jaina winced, "Not very good, sir. No one in their right mind is accepting an invitation to join Rogue Squadron. After the losses we sustained during the war, fliers are starting to think we're a cursed squadron."

"Have you ever looked at the average life expectancy of a Rogue when you throw out the outliers?" Wedge asked. "Cursed may be an over-exaggeration, but being a Rogue generally isn't good for your health and long-term plans."

Jaina stifled a chuckle. By "outliers," Wedge surely meant himself and a few other rare exceptions that had lasted through most of Rogue Squadron's operational lifetime. Most pilots weren't so lucky, however. Many were killed within the first few months of service within Rogue Squadron, some died within days. The few who lasted longer than six months typically requested transfers or flat-out retired.

"The remaining pilot pool is pretty thin," Jaina explained. "Mostly sub-par fliers and disciplinary castoffs."

"Hang in there, Colonel," Wedge replied with a smile. "Things will turn around. They always do for Rogue Squadron."

"If you say so, sir."

Wedge raised a brow, "I do hope you're not planning on selling yourself short, Solo. Gavin and I selected you to be this squadron's new commanding officer for a reason."

"That's right," Lieutenant Lensi said from behind his stack of datapads, "all the other candidates got vaped."

"Precisely," Wedge replied. "It was either you or Corran Horn. His ego really didn't need that kind of inflation so you were the natural choice."

Jaina could only laugh, "I appreciate your vote of confidence, sir."

"Anytime, Solo," Wedge said. "Looks like the decryption is finished. Lensi, try and send a response back and patch any reply onto the main screen."

"Yes sir," Lensi replied. "Message sent…response incoming. Routing to primary display."

Jaina looked up at the large briefing room screen as an image slowly flickered to life. Appearing before them was a man who looked to be in his early-to-mid thirties with slightly thinning black hair. He had a pilot's physique written all about him: thin and slightly shorter than average. Confusion and exhaustion were clearly evident in the man's face. It looked as if he had been to hell and back.

"Sithspit, it's good to see you General," the man said. "If you don't mind me asking, sir, what the hell happened during the last six years?"

Glancing over at Wedge, Jaina was slightly surprised to see a dumbfounded expression on his face. This stranger and the former General seemed to know eachother well enough, considering he had the gall to curse in front of one of the military's most decorated retirees. Whoever this person was, Wedge was clearly shocked to see him.

"Zorvan, is that you?" Wedge asked. "If it is, explain to me this: where the hell have you been the last six years!?"


	3. Clearing Misconceptions

**Chapter One – Clearing Misconceptions**

"Damn it Zorvan," Wedge cursed again. "Tycho and I searched high and low to find you when the war started. Skywalker told us you were dead, but now I'm convinced you spent the last six years cruising through the outer-rim on a frelling spice trip! Vader's Bones I swear I'm going to fly out there myself and shove my X-Wing right up your rear-end, son."

Jaina was somewhat taken aback. She had seen Wedge angry before, but had only seen him dig into the more _choice_ curse vocabulary only a handful of times. Wedge Antilles was very, very upset right now, and she knew better than to interrupt. The last thing she needed was the little-seen Antilles Wrath to come down on her like a Hutt. It was better this stranger on the screen bear the entire brunt of the storm.

"Sir, let me-" the clearly stunned man on the screen started.

"I stuck my neck out on the line for you so many times I lost count!" Wedge interrupted. "I gave you military hardware you didn't deserve! Yet when I need you to do something for me, you vanish, and worse yet, you have Skywalker covering for you! I should have listened to Horn and tossed you in the brig the first chance I got."

Jaina glanced over at Lieutenant Lensi and signaled for him to lock the door to the briefing room. She didn't want one of her superiors stumbling into this mess.

"General I'm really sorry, but-"

"You know I shouldn't have even done that," Wedge was absolutely livid. "I should have ignored Janson and Klivian and shipped your sorry underachieving ass back to the Starfighter Academy. I should have let someone else deal with you and let them throw you into the brig instead!"

"General, sir, all of that may be true," The man on the screen finally managed to get a full sentence out, "but I really could use your help right now."

"What makes you think you're getting any other concessions from me, Zorvan!?"

"General, I'm trapped in the Coruscant system with my crew. My transport is out of fuel, the emergency shuttle is dead, my X-Wing isn't flight ready, and we're out of provisions. If we don't get help fast we're going to have to resort to cannibalism, and frankly my astrogations officer doesn't have a whole lot of meat on his bones."

In a flash, Jaina watched as Wedge reverted to his normal, calm and collected self.

"Sithspit, you're in a bit of a mess aren't you?" Wedge asked. "Colonel, get a message out to command and order an rescue team to be immediately sent to the Coruscant system."

Jaina nodded towards Krell Nevil. Without hesitating he began entering orders into the computer terminal in front of him.

"Hang in there son," Wedge said. "I'm not sure what the hell you've been up to but we'll get you home safely."

"I appreciate it, General," the man said. "Zorvan out."

Wedge shook his head and took a seat, "I've had some real characters serve under me over the years, Solo. You just have to remember that what they bring to the table as pilots outweighs their personalities."

"Is that why you put up with Wes and Hobbie for so long?" Jaina asked.

"That's the only reason I put up with Wes and Hobbie for so long," Wedge grinned. "Most other COs would have had both of them committed to an institution for mental evaluation."

"You seemed to know the man on the other side of the distress beacon well," Jaina noted. "Who was he?"

"Him?" Wedge asked. "That was Lieutenant Commander Zorvan, served under me for about three years during the time the Imperial Remnant was still an issue to the New Republic. Bit of a headache but a natural with the flightstick, shame your Uncle Luke snagged him from me."

"Uncle Luke?" Jaina asked. "Wait…You don't mean Darvix Zorvan, do you? As in, Jedi Master Darvix Zorvan?"

"I keep forgetting you're a Jedi first, pilot second," Wedge mused. "That's him, couldn't quite believe it when I heard Luke has made him a Jedi Master. Zorvan must have gotten some compromising pictures to get that promotion."

"I had Master Zorvan for a few of my ethics courses at the Academy," Jaina said. "He was one of the most…colorful individuals I've ever met."

"A few of my pilots liked to call him a misanthropic Hutt-spawn," Wedge mused.

"That's…one way of putting it, I suppose."

Wedge stood up and glanced at Jaina, "Regardless of all that, he was a smart flier. I wish we could have tracked him down during the war…Have stafighter command bring Zorvan and his crew here. I need to have a one-on-one with him."

As Wedge made his way to the exit, Jaina grabbed his arm, "Something wrong, Colonel?"

"No," Jaina replied, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. "Thanks for cheering me up earlier, Uncle Wedge."

Wedge smiled and ruffled Jaina's hair, "Anytime, kiddo. Oh, Lieutenant Lensi?"

The Duro male looked up from his work, "Yes, sir?"

"Put me down in the pool for that Fel boy, would you? Two hundred credits."

"Yes, sir," Lensi replied with a grin.

Jaina watched as Wedge left the briefing room, unsure whether to be furious or to laugh. Deep down, Wedge Antilles was still a Rogue at heart.

***

* * *

Approximately twenty-four hours later, a large Gallofree GR-75 transport dropped out of hyperspace near Tatooine. A Delta-class DX9 shuttle left the side of the ship, making its way towards the _Mon Mothma_. Following in escort was an aging Incom T-65AC5 X-Wing. The old, battle-tested starfighter remained close to the shuttle, as if the pilot was anticipating an ambush.

At one point in time the T-65A series X-Wings had been the workhorse of the Rebel Alliance and New Republic, serving as a multi-purpose attack and space superiority vessel. Many within the old piloting circles of the New Republic and Rebel Alliance had credited the X-Wing with turning the tides against the empire. Before its introduction, the Alliance had been forced to fly with underpowered Z-95 Headhunters and slow, lumbering Y-Wings. When the X-Wing became an official part of the Alliance's arsenal, the Galactic Empire's TIE Fighters finally met their match.

The X-Wing remained a staple of the New Republic Armed Forces for decades. A few years after the Battle of Endor, it had been decided by Starfighter Command that the X-Wing was to be phased out in favor of the faster E-Wing starfighter. An uproar by the New Republic's pilots put an end to that proposal. The E-Wing would be rolled out to new squadrons, however the numerous X-Wing pilots of the New Republic wound up getting their wish. The rebuilt Incom corporation would begin work on upgrades to the X-Wing, ultimately leading to the creation of the T-65AC4 model, which would serve the New Republic up until the beginning of the Yuuzhan Vong War.

Jaina Solo sat in the cockpit of her own X-Wing when the shuttle and her escort landed in the hanger bay. She watched as the shuttle's two occupants descended from the ship's landing ramp to be met by a pair of deck officers, who quickly whisked them out of the hanger. Next to the shuttle, the escorting X-Wing's canopy popped open, allowing her pilot to leap to the ground below. Jaina couldn't see much of the starfighter's pilot. He was wearing the traditional orange flightsuit and white flak vest typically associated with Starfighter Command pilots. Jaina watched as he was led out of the hanger, perhaps to meet with the crew of the shuttle.

Jaina didn't think much about the shuttle and escort. It wasn't unusual to see personnel transports and single starfighters come and go from a starship like the _Mon Mothma_. Jaina returned to her duties, putting her X-Wing's avionics controls through a standard series of tests. If anything was out of normal operating parameters, or simply felt uncomfortable to her, she would have the hanger techs perform the required adjustments. Thankfully, today didn't appear to be a day in which she would have to fill out a repair request form. Satisfied that everything was in order, Jaina extracated herself from the cockpit of her starfighter and made her way towards the hanger exit.

As she made her way through the corridors of the Star Destroyer, Jaina debated what she would do during the downtime she had for the rest of the day. There was some leftover paperwork waiting to be filled out on her desk, but she wasn't exactly in the mood for more Starfighter Command required bureaucracy. She could head to the gym and finally get a workout in, but in all honest Jaina didn't feel like expending the effort. Chances are she would just sit down in her quarters with a cold dessert dish to watch a few recorded holo soaps she hadn't gotten around to viewing yet.

Jaina made her way past the briefing room that was assigned to Rogue Squadron. She noticed the door was open, allowing for a conversation to be overheard to those passing by. Jaina paused to listen in.

"Six years in hyperspace?" Wedge's voice carried through the open doorway. "No wonder you have no idea what the hell happened here. Just where were you?"

***

* * *

"About three years ago my crew stumbled onto an old space station far outside of the Galaxy's border," Darvix Zorvan replied. "I can't divulge what I found there, but suffice it to say the information I recovered absolutely could not fall into the wrong hands."

Wedge nodded, "That's why Skywalker forged your crew's status and reported the three of you as killed in action."

"Precisely," Darvix replied. "We had to be certain no one was following us. If that information made its way into the public domain, we could be looking at chaos breaking loose. Hell, I don't even understand half of what we found out there! All I do know is that I've got to put this data into the right hands as soon as possible."

"You're looking for Skywalker, then?" Wedge asked.

"If it's not too tall of an order," Darvix shrugged. "The sooner we have he has this information, the better."

"Very well," Wedge glanced at his datapad. "I'll arrange to have Colonel Solo take you down to Tatooine's surface tomorrow. Last I heard Luke was taking some time off to recuperate from the war, not really sure. He's been somewhat of a recluse since the Vong surrendered."

"Thank you, sir," Darvix replied. "…Colonel Solo?"

"Yes," Wedge cast a glance towards the open doorway, "Colonel Jaina Solo. Took over Rogue Squadron shortly after I retired and Darklighter moved to Fleet Command."

"Sithspit, Jaina Solo?" Darvix shook his head. "How old is that stuck up little brat now? Fourteen?"

"Twenty-one," Wedge replied, "and one of the best damn fliers in the fleet. Has more natural skill than you ever had in your prime."

"I never had a chance to fly in my prime, sir," Darvix replied with a half-hearted smile. "If you don't mind, sir, I really should go check up on my crew. The last twenty-four hours have been somewhat life-altering for us. I should make sure they're holding up alright."

"You're just trying to get out of here so you can get some liquor into your system," Wedge said.

"…that too, sir," Darvix admitted. "I really should be going though. If you need me I'll have my comlink number forwarded-"

Darvix stopped in mid-sentence as Wedge fixed him with a cold stare. This couldn't be good. Every time Darvix had seen that look on the General's face, something unpleasant occurred. That was the stare that had sent him behind enemy lines on an Imperial Remnant Star Destroyer. Whatever was about to happen, no good could possibly come from it.

"Mr. Zorvan," Wedge said, "I've stuck my neck out for you a number of times over the years, despite the fact that it was plainly obvious that I shouldn't have."

"Yes, sir," Darvix winced.

"As such, you owe me son," Wedge continued. "I know you've just returned from literally the ends of the Galaxy, but I'm calling in the favors I've been collecting from you. Rogue Squadron is in need of pilots, and specifically, in need of a capable executive officer to handle roster reconstruction and training. The military is strapped for resources, and that means we're scraping the bottom of the barrel to fill squadron vacancies.

"I want you to go take care of your business with Skywalker tomorrow and come back here. Once you're back on board, I want you to apply for immediate readmission into Starfighter Command. I'll pull some strings, and by the end of the day you will be Rogue Squadron's new executive officer. Is that understood, Mr. Zorvan?"

"General," a hint of panic began to creep into Darvix's features, "I haven't flown combat in over a decade! Any skills I may have had have completely rusted and vanished by the wayside. Besides, I didn't exactly depart the Rogue's on a winning note."

"You're damn right you didn't," Wedge continued to stare down Darvix. "You screwed up, and I should have thrown the book at you and left you rotting in a brig cell."

"So why bring me back now?" Darvix folded his arms across his chest. "Last thing you need is for a chronic screw up to help run a prestigious group such as Rogue Squadron."

"You, unfortunately, are the best available candidate for the job," Wedge said. "You will not argue with me, you will do as I tell you. Is that understood, Mr. Zorvan?"

"No, sir," Darvix replied. "I can't really say I understand why you're putting me in this spot."

"You put yourself in this spot," Wedge said. "I will remind you again, you owe me."

Darvix frowned and closed his eyes, "Yes sir. I'll submit that paperwork tomorrow."

"Very good," Wedge replied as he turned to face the door, "and you'll be prepared to take him to the surface tomorrow morning, Colonel Solo?"

A sheepish Jaina Solo appeared in front of the door, "Yes, sir."

"Wonderful," Wedge patted Darvix on the shoulder. "I love it when a plan comes together."


	4. Change of Command

**Chapter Two – Change of Command**

Jaina sat in the pilot's seat of the Lambda-class shuttle, waiting for Darvix Zorvan to arrive. He was late, and Jaina was beginning to loose patience. She should have been on Tatooine's surface by now, instead she was trapped in the _Mon Mothma's_ primary hanger. There were other things she needed to be taking care of. Jaina had stacks of paperwork piling up on her desk. She had missed calls to return. She could be doing all of those things, but instead she was waiting for one very late Jedi Master. Jaina began to tap her foot impatiently against the cold durasteel floor of the shuttle.

"Sorry I'm late," Darvix took a seat in the co-pilots seat next to her. "Those breakfast pastries they serve in the cafeteria are to _die_ for. Couldn't get enough of them."

"Shut up," a woman said as she entered the shuttle, taking a seat in one of the passenger chairs. "You'll have to forgive him. Six years in isolation didn't do much to improve his already meager social skills."

"Colonel Solo," Darvix gestured to his female companion, "this is Kasari Lisae. Lucky woman had the pleasure of spending over half a decade trapped in hyperspace with me. Enough with the pleasantries, though. Skywalker will have my head if I'm any later than we already are."

"And whose fault is that?" Kasari asked.

"Yours," Darvix smiled. "It took Vik and myself twenty minutes to drag you out of the cafeteria. You acted like you hadn't eaten anything but ration bars for six years."

"Shut up," Kasari glared as she fastened her flight seat's harness.

Jaina tried to tune out the argument her two passengers insisted on engaging in while she carefully navigated the shuttle out of the hanger and into open space. She had never spoken with Kasari before. Jaina had heard her name spoken several times at the academy. Word-of-mouth seemed to indicate that she was a rather exceptional Jedi who had been cursed with a terrible Master. Darvix Zorvan, on the other hand, was another story entirely.

She had been forced to take an ethics course at the Jedi Academy on Yavin IV that was taught by Master Zorvan. It wasn't long before it became the part of her day she would dread the most. Zorvan was merciless when it came to interacting with the young Jedi padawans. Jaina had even heard of an unofficial betting ring that placed wagers on the over/under of how many students would flee the classroom in tears from his verbal berating. If Jaina remembered correctly, she pushed one such wager into the "over" category after leaving classroom in tears after one such Zorvan verbal berating.

That alone was enough to cause her to question General Antilles decision to make him the executive officer of Rogue Squadron. Of course, there was nothing binding Jaina to that decision. Wedge Antilles was a retired military officer who didn't serve the fleet in any official capacity. Despite that, she couldn't deny that his opinion carried more weight than most others, current military or not. If he believed that Zorvan was executive officer material, then it was probably true.

Despite that, she didn't want Zorvan in her squadron serving as her executive officer. Unfortunately, who was she to question General Antilles' wisdom?

Jaina guided the shuttle towards Tatooine's barren, wasteland surface as her two passengers continued to quarrel. She skimmed shuttle along the surface, nearing the coordinates she had programmed into the ship's navigations computer. Her uncle and Mara Jade had taken refuge in a secluded hut not far from the moisture farm he had grown up on. After the war, Luke decided to disappear from public view. The destruction of the Jedi Academy and the New Republic had taken a great toll on him. In order to cope, Luke left the Jedi in the hands of Kyle Katarn and retreated to his homeworld to recuperate and reassess life as a whole.

It hurt Jaina to see her strong uncle reduced to such a depressed, miserable state. He had placed more blame on his shoulders than he deserved during the war, and now it had come back to hurt him. She understood his pain. Many good men and women died under his command over the years, though never to the scale that he endured during the Vong war. Perhaps years of service to the Jedi and military had finally pushed him past the breaking point.

Jaina spotted the hut in the distance and eased back on the throttle. Luke had told her that the building had belonged to Obi-Wan Kenobi prior to his death aboard the first Death Star. As far as she knew, Luke was spending his days meditating and tending to a handful of moisture vaporators. She found the latter amusing. Luke would always tell her tales when she was younger about how much he hated working on a moisture farm. The vaporators were the bane of his existence. Now he had his own to take care of.

Jaina began the landing procedures. All the while, her two passengers continued to argue.

***

* * *

Darvix stepped out of the shuttle and winced as the blistering Tatooine heat hit him. He hated the planet with every fiber of his being. After defecting to the New Republic as a teenager, Darvix made Tatooine his first home. He immediately regretted it. The famed Colonel Gavin Darklighter's parents took him in and promptly put him to work on a moisture farm, where his job was to tend to the electronic equipment on the moisture deposits. He'd spend countless miserable hours in the scorching heat provided by the planet's twin suns. Perhaps the greatest day of his life was the day he was shipped off to Coruscant to enroll in the New Republic's starfighter academy. It occasionally rained there.

He followed Jaina to the hut's entrance with Kasari in tow. Darvix shielded his eyes from the sun as he glanced around his surroundings. Nothing but barren desert to one end and canyons to another. He would have to sneak out while no one was looking and make his way towards Mos Eisley. The wasteland surrounding him was starting to become depressing, and when Darvix began feeling depressed the only remedy was hard liquor. Or an episode of Galactic Hospital.

Darvix watched as Jaina keyed the door chime. The door slid open, revealing a familiar head of flaming red hair.

"Oh sithspit," Darvix groaned, "You took Skywalker over me? My male ego has been forever bruised."

"You know Zorvan," Mara Jade grinned slightly, "I'm not sure whether or not to be glad you're alive, or to castrate you on the spot."

"I missed you too, Hotlips," Darvix replied. "Is Uncle Luke home?"

"He's out at one of the moisture deposits," Mara Jade replied. "I'll call for him, come on inside…Touch anything and I will kill you, Zorvan."

"Yes ma'am," Darvix replied as he entered the hut.

The hut was meagerly furnished, just enough to get by. The walls were bare and save for some furniture, there wasn't much to speak of. Darvix sat down in the main living area and waited for Luke to arrive. Ten years ago he had given Darvix a special assignment that took him to all corners of the Galaxy and beyond. Darvix, a blood descendant of the ancient Jedi Atton Rand, had been tasked with locating information about two fallen Jedi: The Exile and Darth Revan.

Six years ago the mission led Darvix on a voyage beyond the borders of the Galaxy. Three years ago he discovered an ancient Sith facility that served as the final resting place of the Jedi Exile; a woman who would stare the Dark Side of the Force in the face and turn away from it's influences. Darvix had learned that the Exile reformed the Jedi Council after the Jedi-Sith War four thousand years earlier. The history books referred to her as a fallen Jedi, but Darvix had discovered that she was, in fact, a redeemed Jedi who had saved the Galaxy single-handedly.

Darvix awoke from his reverie as the door slid open again. A rather worn and haggard Luke Skywalker greeted him.

"Darvix?" Luke asked as he walked towards him. "You're…not dead."

"I've been getting that a lot lately," Darvix frowned slightly. "I'm still not sure what happened in the Galaxy while I was gone, but it sounds like I made the right decision to take a six year vacation."

Luke shook his head, "You have no idea."

"If it's all the same, I'd rather not talk about how system was laid waste to while I was gone," Darvix's shoulders slumped. "I've got a report to file with you."

"You found the station?" Luke's eyes looked as if they were about to bulge out of their sockets.

"I found more than we could have ever hoped for," Darvix said. "I've got the historical logs of the Ebon Hawk."

"The Ebon Hawk?" Luke asked. "The flagship of Darth Revan? That's supposed to be nothing more than a myth."

"I assure you, it wasn't," Darvix replied. "I haven't studied the information in depth…that's a job for your scholars, not me."

"What can you tell me?"

Darvix thought for a moment before answering, "We were wrong."

"We were wrong?" Luke raised a brow. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You, me, the Jedi, the New Republic, the history texts," Darvix explained. "We were all wrong about Revan, Atton Rand, and the Exile. They weren't fallen Jedi. They were all saviors of the Galaxy."

Kasari spoke up, "We encountered a holo-recording on board the Ebon Hawk that was created by the Exile shortly before her death. Both she and Revan knew that history would be skewed to show them as villains of the Old Republic, so she created a message specifically for Darvix intended to clear their names."

"Revan managed to repel a Sith invasion lead by his former apprentice Darth Malak," Darvix said. "The Exile rebuilt the Jedi Council that existed until Emperor Palpatine's rule. If that wasn't enough, both decided to head outside of the Galaxy to duel with the True Sith."

"The True Sith…" Luke murmered. "They do exist, then? It's not a philosophy or a teaching by followers of the Dark Side."

"From all indications they are a very real and very present danger," Kasari said. "The logs don't contain a great deal about them. All we know is that Revan and the Exile encountered the True Sith but were unable to destroy them. They managed to cripple the Sith, but the Exile warned us that they would not remain in hiding forever."

"The Exile left us with one last prophecy from Revan," Darvix said. "The Sith will return for one great and final battle to determine the fate of the Galaxy. Fail, and the consequences will ripple far beyond our borders and touch innocent life forms we had no idea existed. The penalty for failure would be beyond our comprehension.

"Succeed," Darvix continued, "and the Force will cease to exist as we know it, leading the Galaxy into a state of glory that is far beyond anything we can understand. Either way, Revan had one order for us: The Jedi will be the spearhead of the Galaxy. We must be prepared or we will fall. If we fall, then innumerable life forms beyond our Galaxy will suffer as a consequence.

"I don't know when the Sith with return," Darvix said. "It may be in a day, a year, or not within our lifetime at all. All I do know is that it is time for us to change the way we teach and prepare the Jedi."

"We cannot let what happened with the Vong ever happen again," Luke said. "As such, we have to change the way we conduct ourselves."

"We have to be proactive now," Darvix nodded. "I've been thinking a great deal since arriving in the Coruscant system several days ago…Perhaps the Vong were meant to be a wakeup call for the Jedi. From everything I've heard the Jedi and the Republic were flat-footed in dealing with the invasion fleet. That can never happen again."

The room was silent for a long while. The information that Darvix had just divulged was shattering news. It was hard enough to comprehend the workings of just one Galaxy, but if the prophecy was true, the Jedi would be responsible for the well being of so much more. It was an enormous responsibility.

"You've done well, Darvix," Luke said. "Everything I asked for you delivered, your work and dedication have been exemplary. I suppose it's time to return you to your original duties as a peacekeeper of the Galaxy. I'll put you in contact immediately with Katarn and have you reassigned to new duties."

Darvix fixed Luke with a regretful expression, "I can't, Luke."

"Oh don't do this to me, Darvix," Luke looked as if he had been punched in the stomach. "I need you, the Jedi need you."

"Not as much as the military needs me right now," Darvix said. "I'm returning to active duty and signing on as Rogue Squadron's executive officer."

"You're what!?" Kasari bolt upright and made her way towards Darvix.

"I'm sorry," Darvix wore an expression of regret upon his face. "I spoke with General Antilles after arriving in the system. The military is in desperate need of command material and he feels I'm best suited for the job."

"It figures he'd steal one of you back from me," Luke heaved a sigh.

"It won't be a permanent post," Darvix explained. "I'll be tasked with rebuilding and training the squadron. A year, year and a half we'll have the unit functioning again and I can retire from service."

"Do you think this is the right decision, Darvix?" Luke asked.

"I- I don't know," Darvix responded. "Perhaps…yes. Luke, this is something I have to do."

"This represents the last of your past demons, doesn't it?"

Darvix nodded solemnly, "Yes… Master Skywalker I really appreciate all that you've done for me. If it wasn't for you I'd be rotting in a brig cell somewhere. However, I have work that I have yet to complete, and it lies with General Antilles and the military."

"My role in this tale of Jedi grandeur is over," Darvix admitted. "What happens now is beyond me. Hundreds of years from now the history texts should refer to some great and powerful Jedi as the one who put an end to the Sith. I should only be a minor footnote in the story… My work with the Jedi in this capacity is over, as it should be."

"Very well," Luke said. "You're released from your duties as a Jedi Master. You will retain your title as a badge of honor for the great tasks you have accomplished…and if you ever decide you want to come back, our doors will be open to you."

Darvix stood and extended a hand towards Luke, "Wedge gave me the same offer when I left Rogue Squadron over a decade ago."

"I'm sure he didn't think you'd cash in on it," Luke replied with a smile. "Now get out of here. I expect you to hit the flight simulator hard."

Darvix smiled, "Yes sir."


	5. Active Duty

**Chapter Three – Active Duty**

Darvix swore aloud as a TIE Defender began pouring fire into his aft. Quickly he threw his X-Wing into a hard dive, causing his pursuer to lose ground on him as its pilot tried to compensate for the changed flight path. Darvix gritted his teeth as he quickly juked and jinked his flightstick to keep the enemy fire from tearing through his shields. He had been trying to out-maneuver the enemy starfighter for nearly three full minutes without success. Every move he made the opposing pilot matched. His shields were already at one-quarter strength, meaning that he wouldn't be able to sustain much more fire. Once his shields were gone, all that was left between him and a cold vacuum bath was a few layers of durasteel.

"Zone, give me a rear visual feed on monitor two," Darvix said to his astromech droid.

With a chirp of acknowledgement, the droid began streaming the data into one of Darvix's console-mounted monitors. The Defender was gaining ground on him again and was nearing laser fire range. He needed to think quickly if he was going to have any chance of making it out of this skirmish alive. Darvix's hand tensed around the flightstick as he suddenly threw his X-Wing's throttle to full-off. Immediately he fired his repulsorlift jets and pressed down hard on his flightstick, causing his starfighter to spin on its nose. With his ship repositioned at precisely the right moment, Darvix could see the TIE Defender passing in front of him as the pilot tried to readjust the starfighter's flight path once more.

Darvix quickly let loose with a barrage of laser fire, tearing through the Defender's shields. He reset his throttle to full and engaged in pursuit, all the while snapping off burst after burst of fire. Darvix struggled to keep the enemy fighter in front of him. He knew that his reflexes were gone, ten years away from regular combat and active duty had encased his flying ability in a seemingly impenetrable layer of rust. He couldn't think fast enough and he couldn't act fast enough.

"Sithspit," Darvix cursed. "Zone my controls feel too sensitive. Scale back responsiveness by two degrees."

He frowned to himself as he issued that order. The more sensitive the controls, the more precise his adjustments could be. However, if he overshot or undershot the location on the flightstick he was aiming for, his X-Wing would veer wildly off course. By scaling back the sensitivity of the controls, the flight stick would become more forgiving to the pilot but would sacrifice a great amount of precision. Ten years ago he had the motor skills and muscle memory to set the sensitivity of the avionics to nearly full. This was no longer the case.

Darvix flipped his weapons control over to proton torpedoes and squared his targeting brackets over the TIE Defender. The brackets began to flash yellow, indicating that the targeting computer was hard at work calculating a lock signature for his torpedoes. His hands squeezed harder on the throttle and flightstick as the yellow flashing became quicker. Finally the indicator turned red and the klaxon in his cockpit alerted him to the target lock he had just obtained.

Just as Darvix was about to squeeze the trigger and release twin proton torpedoes, the Tie Defender suddenly spun around to face him. Before he could react, Darvix saw two concussion missiles fire from the TIE Defender. He knew it was fired without a target lock, but it was already too late. Before he could react the missiles slammed into his X-Wing.

Darvix's world was then engulfed by blackness.

***

* * *

Jaina Solo emerged from the flight simulator, pulling her helmet off her head and setting it on a nearby bench. She had flown the TIE Defender in the simulated skirmish, escaping from the dogfight with only minor shield damage. Jaina strode over to an adjacent simulator and keyed the canopy release.

"Not bad," Jaina said. "You were sloppy, to be sure, but you held in there."

"Sloppy is a rather generous way of describing that performance," Darvix said as he removed his own helmet. "I'm like one of those over-the-hill shockball players. Slow, old, out-of-shape, and generally worthless."

Jaina helped Darvix out of the flight simulator. She noticed that he seemed to be a bit stiff and sore. He was at the age where a pilot's body began to betray them. Jaina had seen many pilots about Darvix's age begin to show signs of slowing down. No doubt he was feeling his age at that moment, and probably wasn't all too pleased with himself. All of this was somewhat worrying to Jaina. Could Darvix get his act together again? He hadn't flown in a long time. It was painfully clear that he currently wasn't cut out for active service on most squadrons across the fleet.

"That felt a lot faster than I remembered," Darvix said as he sat down on a nearby chair. "The X-Wing, I mean."

Jaina grabbed a bottle of water from a table, tossing it towards him, "You're probably too used to that old AC4 model you've been flying."

Darvix caught the bottle and took a large drink from it, "What's changed?"

"Weapons controls, top speed, avionics," Jaina said. "You name it, Incom changed it."

The Incom Corporation had been designing starfighters for decades. Before the fall of the New Republic, they had created and released the Z-95 Headhunter, which would serve as the predecessor to the X-Wing and would be one of the first fighters deployed by the Rebel Alliance to Restore the Republic. Many of their designers took an enormous risk to defect to the Rebels early in the Galactic Civil War. Following the first fall of Coruscant, those designers returned to the Incom Corporation to continue designing starfighters for the New Republic.

"Speed isn't everything in a starfighter," Darvix leaned back in the chair.

"It became a necessity to improve the top-speed," Jaina explained. "As other ships got faster, the X-Wing stood pat. Once the parameters changed, the AC4 just didn't have enough speed to serve as a multi-purpose fighter. It best it was a hit-and-fade bomber, and that was questionable. Most of the old X-Wings were converted into recon fliers and phased out."

"What replaced them?"

"Part way through the Vong war Incom released the T-65J X-Wing was introduced," Jaina continued. "Stuck around for a little while. About three years ago the XJ3 model was put into service, we got a squadron full of them shortly after the fall of Coruscant. Thankfully the XJ3 finally put the E-Wing to bed."

"The E-Wing?" Darvix shook his head. "That starfighter's been a joke since its development during my Academy days. Bad heat radiation, astromech interfaces, weapons placement… "

"We almost got stiffed with them," Jaina said. "Thank the Force we got those XJ3s instead. We would have mutinied against Colonel Darklighter if New Republic Command took away our X-Wings."

"I can't imagine a Rogue Squadron without X-Wings," Darvix mused.

"You might have to start visualizing it," Jaina heaved a sigh. "Our X-Wings were reallocated to active squadrons after the Vong War. All we've got at our disposal are two old T-65Js that I'm fairly certain aren't flight ready."

"Wonderful," Darvix frowned as he pulled the black gloves off his hands. "The best damn unit in the fleet has been reduced to pushing paperwork. It's going to be a nightmare trying to reconstruct the roster and secure starfighters."

"We're not going to get any starfighters until we get an active roster," Jaina pointed out. "We'll have to handle that first."

Darvix stood up and smiled, "Nonsense, Colonel. Here at Rogue Squadron, we excel at multi-tasking."

Jaina felt her stomach drop. She had seen this look on his face before. Every time that grin and glint in his eyes appeared she and every other student at the Jedi Academy knew he was up to something. That look meant that he was formulating a plan, and when Darvix had a plan, people around him tended to suffer as a result.

"Major Zorvan, whatever you're thinking about doing I suggest you forget it," Jaina affixed her executive officer with a cold glare.

"Colonel, you wound me," Darvix feigned shock. "Are you suggesting I might be up to no good?"

"Your reputation among piloting and Jedi circles would indicate that you are, in fact, up to no good," Jaina said flatly.

Darvix stood and placed an arm around Jaina, "Do you remember that one particular ethics lesson in which you ran out of the room crying like a little girl who had lost her favorite doll?"

"You called me a half-wit, Hutt-Spawn with no future ambitions but prostitution," Jaina brushed Darvix's arm off her shoulder.

"And look at you now!" Darvix grinned. "You're a half-wit, Hutt-spawn who became the commanding officer of Rogue Squadron!"

"I should write you up for insubordination," Jaina rolled her eyes. "Either that or I should take after Aunt Mara and castrate you where you stand. What's your point, Major?"

"Sometimes," Darvix said as he walked towards the exit, "you have to bend the rules a little to get what you need."

As Darvix left the simulation room, Jaina could only shake her head. Wedge Antilles had stiffed her with the most incompetent, arrogant, and misanthropic executive officer imaginable. Just what was it Wedge had seen in Zorvan all those years ago? Perhaps the stress of three decades of military service had finally caused Wedge to snap and he was imagining things. Whatever he was seeing in Darvix, Jaina sure wasn't.

***

* * *

Jaina wasn't quite sure what was on the plate in front of her. It vaguely resembled meat, but as she prodded it she noted that it had the same texture of vulcanized weather stripping. She imagined it was safe to assume that it probably tasted like vulcanized weather stripping as well. Jaina considered taking a bite of the faux meat, but was fairly certain that her digestive tract would balk the moment she began to chew. This meal proved once again that there was one truly effective dieting method in the Galaxy: her own cooking. The doorchime was a welcome distraction from her failed attempt at the culinary arts. Setting the failed dinner aside, Jaina went to answer the door.

"Uncle Tycho!" Jaina said as she threw her arms around the former Colonel. "You're back from Adumar! Is Aunt Winter here too?"

Growing up, Jaina's spent a good amount of time with Tycho Celchu's wife, Winter. She had been close companions with Jaina's mother since childhood, an almost sister-like figure to the Alderaani princess. During the early days of the Rebel Alliance, Winter had served as her mother's closest aide, and when she and Jacen were born, Winter would become the one person the Solos could trust with their kin. Many of Jaina's memories through her formative years involved her mother's aide and companion. She had been there to read Jaina bedtime stories, to tend to scrapped knees and elbows.

"She's resting up in our quarters," Tycho replied as he entered Jaina's living area. "A twenty-eight hour transport ride with Hobbie and Wes can really take it out of you."

Her parents and her Uncle Luke had told her stories about Wes and Hobbie. Both were brilliant pilots who had far outlived the expected lifespan of a Rogue pilot before retiring. They were (according to Luke and General Antilles) also the biggest misfits in squadron history. Wes Janson had been known as the squadron's prankster. His very presence caused people to be on edge. Jaina had heard stories of the various stunts Janson had pulled; the condiment bombs, the skeletons in lockers, falsifying assignment transfer orders. If there was a way to make a fellow pilot look foolish, Janson would be the one to make it happen.

Hobbie Klivian, on the other hand, had been the squadron's resident skeptic and pessimist. Rogue lore said that there wasn't a plan or idea Hobbie wouldn't object to. According to him, doom was constantly waiting around the corner. For some unknown reason, both he and Wes had become close friends while serving as Rogues and Academy instructors. Together they would prove to be brilliant pilot and headaches for every commanding officer they served under: Luke Skywalker, Wedge Antilles, and Tycho Celchu. As good as they were, Jaina wasn't sure if she could handle pilots like that in her ranks. She was thankful she wouldn't have to find out.

"I wanted to congratulate you on your new post," Tycho said. "I've got a feeling you'll get the Rogues up and flying again in a hurry."

Jaina smiled and shrugged slightly, "Well, we'll see. Wedge pulled some strings to get me a new executive officer…but I'm not too sure he'll help."

"I've been out of touch with Wedge for a while," Tycho said. "Who did that meddling old codger bring in?"

"Major Darvix Zorvan," Jaina replied. "First time he's been on an active-duty roster in over a decade."

"Dap Zorvan?" Tycho looked surprised. "I was beginning to think that the human datapad wouldn't show his face in the Galaxy again."

Jaina raised a brow, "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"While we were trying to build squadrons during the war," Tycho explained, "Wedge and I searched high and low for anyone who had experience with a flightstick. One of the first people we talked to was your uncle Luke. We specifically asked for two people: Corran Horn and Darvix Zorvan.

"We got Horn back and put him to work right away. When we tried to find out where Zorvan was hiding, Luke was…less than forthcoming. He showed us the records that indicated that Dap had been killed in the Lehon system trying to navigate through an asteroid field. Other than that, Luke didn't have much to say. There was no estimated date of death, no reason listed for him being in the Lehon system to begin with. It all seemed kind of suspicious. When did he turn up?"

"Just a few days ago in the Corustant system," Jaina said. "He'd been out of contact with Republic space and the Jedi Academy for about six years. Supposedly he had taken a cargo freighter beyond the Galaxy's borders…I didn't get all the details from him."

"He missed all of the war, then."

"He had no idea what had happened while he was gone," Jaina explained. "I was surprised to see how he handled all that news upon his return."

"Well, that's one thing Zorvan is going to bring you," Tycho said. "He's one of the coldest pilots I've ever flown with. You never really know what he's thinking, which I suppose is a good thing. He'll get angry to be sure, but he rarely lets his emotions best him while he's flying. Dap's the kind of pilot who breaks everything down into numbers. Everything is a calculated…Every risk, every maneuver, every vector. In terms of cold, hard analysis, he's probably the perfect person to help you pick pilot candidates. He won't help you build briefing room chemistry, but he'll sure help you find the most skilled pilots available."

"Well, I guess that's comforting," Jaina said.

"I try," Tycho smiled. "Aside from that, he is a heartless, misanthropic, misogynistic bastard."

Tycho patted her on the shoulder, "Just keep him in line and he'll be a great officer serving under you. Make sure he knows where the boundaries are…One more thing. I ran into a former New Republic pilot while I was on Adumar, former Rogue and commanded her own group for a while. You interested?"

"Solid service record?" Jaina asked.

"Impeccable," Tycho said. "She expressed a desire to return to Rogue Squadron, but you'll have to give your go-ahead first."

"Have her flown in," Jaina said. "I'll run her through a couple of simulations as a formality, but I'd love to have a former Rogue back on the roster."

"Wonderful," Tycho said as he began to walk out of Jaina's quarters, "Oh, and do make sure your executive officer is there to greet her when she comes aboard, would you?"


	6. Surprise

**Chapter Four – Surprise**

Darvix tugged at the collar of his dress uniform jacket as he strode towards the meeting room assigned to Rogue Squadron. He glanced at his wrist chronometer and frowned, if he was going to pull this stunt off, he'd need to hurry. Darvix figured he had twenty minutes tops to pull off the heist and vanish before the target showed up. It was a small window of opportunity, but he'd done more with less. Before he could even begin, he had to put a disguise together.

As he stepped into the meeting room, the first part of his plan went into effect.

"Lieutenant Lensi," Darvix barked. "Rank pip, now!"

The Duro male stared at Darvix for a moment. He must have thought that it was slightly odd that his new executive officer had asked for a one-on-one meeting in full class-A uniform. No doubt he was now thinking that his executive officer was a few bolts short of an X-Wing. Darvix returned the stare with an icy-cold glare. The new Rogue executive officer was not to be trifled with.

"Are you deaf or just stupid, Lensi?" Darvix asked. "Take one of those pips off your uniform and give it to me."

"May I ask why, sir?" the Lieutenant asked.

"No," Darvix replied. "Now give me the pip."

Darvix smiled to himself as Lensi shrugged and removed the pip and placed it in his hand. Pips were small red and blue buttons that signified rank on dress uniforms. Darvix had three pips placed on the square patch on his shoulder, signifying his rank as a Major in the military's army. He placed the forth pip on the patch, instantly promoting himself to Colonel. Before the befuddled Lieutenant Lensi could object, Darvix turned on his heels and walked out of the briefing room.

With the first part of his plan out of the way, Darvix made his way towards the civilian crew quarters. To increase the odds of his plan succeeding, he would need to create a façade that would convince people he was a member of Fleet Command. What better way to appear to be a datapad-pushing military stiff than to haul a secretary everywhere? Grinning to himself, Darvix rang the doorchime belonging to room 221B. Moments later, he was greeted by a familiar sight: an annoyed looking Kasari Lisae.

"What do you want?" Kasari asked. "On second thought, don't answer that. I don't want to know. If you're looking for cheap entertainment, there are some call girls available on Mos Eisley…or call boys if that's how you're leaning today."

Darvix placed a datapad in her hands, "Follow me…and unbutton the top of your shirt a bit more, would you?"

Kasari rolled her eyes and followed as Darvix made his way towards the off-limits ship administration area, "Why am I following you?"

"Probably my rear end," Darvix replied. "Women follow it like Gizka to a cliff."

"I'm not helping you break the law today," Kasari said flatly. "We need to talk."

"I'm not going back to the Jedi, so that line of questioning ends now," Darvix replied "And if you must know what I'm up to, I'm requisitioning some X-Wings for Rogue Squadron."

"Why does this involve me?"

"Appearances, Kasari," Darvix smiled. "It's all about how you present yourself. Now hold that datapad and look like you're taking notes or something."

"I am not your secretary," Kasari glared at Darvix.

"Of course your not," Darvix replied. "You're my fake secretary, very different. Just stay quiet and flash your cleavage every forty-five seconds."

"This is not going to end well."

Darvix smiled and pulled a Dilnlexan cigar from his pocket and placed it between his teeth to light it, "Relax, I've got everything planned out."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Kasari shook her head as they walked into an administrative office.

"Where's Admiral Darklighter?" Darvix demanded, surprising a number of desk-dwellers sitting within the office.

The disguise and façade had been successfully put together, now came part three: the heist itself.

"He's at lunch," a human male captain said. "I can summon you when he returns, if you don't mind Colonel…"

"Colonel Antilles," Darvix said, exhaling a puff of cigar smoke. "And don't you start going off with the 'are you related to General Antilles' garbage again. It's a common last name! Now you'd better get me Darklighter right away, son, or you'll be peeling tubers on a garbage hauler."

"Colonel, I'm sorry but he'll be back in ten minutes I'm sure you can-"

"It's imperative that I speak with him!" Darvix said. "I've got a squadron that needs sixteen XJ3 X-Wings, and they need them yesterday. Darklighter has authorized it, and now I just need him to send the order out to high command."

"Sir, he'll be here-"

"I don't have ten minutes, son!" Darvix was mere inches away from the poor captain's face. "You get him here in two minutes or your ass is on its way to a kitchen on Kessel, is that understood Captain?"

"Even if I wanted to, I can't contact him!" The captain tried to explain. "Comlink communication has been down for the last half hour."

Comlink communication, that was part of Plan Zero of the heist. Before leaving his quarters, Darvix had sliced into the Mon Mothma's communications relay system, jamming person-to-person comlink chatter. No matter how hard they tried, they wouldn't be able to get a hold of Admiral Darklighter to verify Darvix's story.

"Well than you had better issue the order, then," Darvix snapped. "You taking note of this, honey?"

Kasari tried not to glare at Darvix, instead offering a faint smile.

"Ah you're great," Darvix replied. "Best secretary I've ever had, wonderful notes and not too hard on the eyes either. Now, captain, if you can please send a subspace message to-"

"I can't send an order like that to high command!" the captain replied, exasperated. "I'll be rotting in a brig cell if I do that."

"I'm going to make you take a vacuum bath if you don't, captain," Darvix said calmly. "Just send the order for sixteen XJ3 X-Wings to be brought here for Rogue Squadron."

"Rogue Squadron!?" The Captain looked as if he were going to be ill. "That's a defunct unit, they only have four pilots assigned to the roster! I can't get you a full complement of twelve X-Wings, let alone sixteen!"

"Son, just mark the order per Admiral Darklighter," Darvix exhaled another puff of smoke in the Captain's face. "You'll also have to keep this quiet, this is a high security operation. Don't mention it to anyone else here, don't even mention it to Admiral Darklighter. He already knows about the requisition. That understood, Captain?"

"Yes sir!" the captain snapped a salute, which Darvix returned weakly.

"Good job, son," Darvix replied. "You're doing a great service for the military…and remember, loose lips vape starships."

Darvix left the administration office, grinning ear to ear with the cigar protruding from the side of his mouth. The "heist" was executed perfectly. Within a day or two Rogue Squadron would be receiving sixteen new X-Wing starfighters. All he had to do now was fill the roster with pilots to fly said X-Wings.

"You didn't really need me there, did you," Kasari asked.

"Hm…not really, no," Darvix said.

"Why did you bring me with you?"

Darvix shrugged, "Eye candy, mostly."

Kasari shook her head, "You owe me. Go buy me lunch."

"I don't-"

"This is non negotiable," Kasari placed her hands on her hips. "Buy me lunch or I track Admiral Darklighter down and tell him you fleeced sixteen X-Wings out of the military."

"And you claim I have a short temper."

"I learned from the best," Kasari replied as she strode towards the mess hall. "Now go buy me lunch."

"Yes ma'am," Darvix replied. "Drinks in your quarters afterwords?"

"Nice try, Zorvan."

"I thought so," Darvix smiled once again.

***

* * *

Jaina felt her stomach plummet to her feet. No, this couldn't be right. She was seeing things. There weren't really sixteen brand-new Incom XJ3 X-Wings sitting in front of her. It was impossible; High Command would never grant a defunct squadron that many new starfighters. No matter how many times she shook her head and pinched herself, she'd wind up at the same conclusion. Rogue Squadron had just been assigned more than a squadron's worth of X-Wings. A full outfit only needed twelve. According to the paperwork, all sixteen belonged to her squadron. This wasn't right at all, and she knew exactly who was responsible.

"Zorvan!" She barked towards one of the X-Wings "You've got thirty seconds to explain yourself before I vent you into space."

Her executive officer looked away from a belly panel beneath one of the X-Wings, lifting up his work goggles and rubbing the grease off of his hands and onto a rag, "What makes you think I did anything, ma'am?"

"Because you're the only person on this ship who would have the audacity to go over my head and steal from High Command," Jaina snapped. "What the hell did you do!?"

"Colonel, all I did was tell High Command that Admiral Darklighter approved a request to grant Rogue Squadron sixteen X-Wings," Darvix smiled that mischievous smile that Jaina had already seen too often. "With this out of the way, we can focus our attention on finding pilots. It's a win-win for everyone involved."

"Did Admiral Darklighter really approve the request?" Jaina asked.

"…If by approve, you mean didn't explicitly reject," Darvix said, "then yes."

If Jaina wasn't so dismayed, she may have been tempted to strangle Darvix, "You didn't talk to

"If by talk, you mean offer a casual but completely apathetic greeting while passing eachother in the hallway, yes."

"You tricked High Command into thinking Admiral Darklighter ordered sixteen X-Wings for Rogue Squadron," Jaina rubbed her temples as she tried to sort out this mess in her mind. "I should throw you into a brig and court martial you myself, you arrogant bastard."

"Colonel, I've seen what happens to squadrons that are classified as defunct," Darvix lowered his goggles and reached into the service compartment again. "One by one the remaining pilots are reassigned to other groups. Eventually all that's left is a squadron name and unit number hiding in someone's database. When no one's looking, that squadron name simply gets assigned to some other group. You know about Gold Squadron, yes?"

"The bomber flight," Jaina said, arms folded across her chest. "One of the most prolific Y-Wing and B-Wing units in Alliance and Republic history."

"The original Gold Squadron went defunct after the Battle of Yavin," Darvix explained as he pulled a hydrospanner off of his belt. "The name has been handed from squadron to squadron ever since."

"What's your point?" Jaina asked. "None of the original Rogue Squadron pilots are still flying."

"Gold Squadron has no link to the original unit," Darvix replied. "We do. Every iteration of Rogue Squadron has some members that were hand-selected by the previous iteration. Right now there are only four of us in this squadron, the only four pilots within the squadron who have some connection to the past Rogue groups. Colonel, I'll be frank. We're in danger of being reassigned to active units. Once the four of us are gone, the Rogue Squadron we all grew up with ceases to exist.

"Colonel, I know you have a lot of pride as a pilot," Darvix glanced over at Jaina again, "I've seen your service record and have spent hours watching footage of your flying ability. You don't get as good as you are if you don't have a deep love for your profession… Don't tell me the thought of Rogue Squadron's name being given to some random group of pilots doesn't bother you, Solo. You're too engrained in this squadron's legacy to let it happen."

Jaina remained silent as Darvix closed up the X-Wing, "We have to act before High Command pulls the trigger and places us in separate squadrons. Once that happens, Rogue Squadron as we know it is dead. We have a legacy of accepting only the best and brightest pilots the military has to offer... who knows what Rogue Squadron would look like in someone else's hands. I'd hate to see that legacy die at our hands."

What was Jaina to do? Zorvan had clearly broken several procedural rules and perhaps had gone as far as committing a felony or three. By all rights, she should be writing him up for an immediate court martial. On the other hand, she knew he was right. For the past month she had been keenly aware that at any moment she could be receiving orders to report to a new squadron. Keeping Rogue Squadron alive with her at the helm was nothing more than a morale booster for the fleet. She had resigned herself to this a while ago, but she wouldn't deny that the thought of Rogue Squadron's name and legacy in some random commanding officer's hands made her furious.

She mentally kicked herself. Jaina knew she was about to give Darvix preferential treatment. He was like one of those all-too-perfect characters in a romance novella, getting away with anything they wanted without fear of consequence. Worse, Jaina knew she was enabling Darvix to get away with it. She had no doubt that Darvix was a person who was used to getting exactly what they wanted when they wanted it. Jaina had to draw the line.

"Zorvan, if you ever go over my head again like this," Jaina said flatly, "so help me, I will have your head. We're part of the same commanding unit in the same squadron, we act as one. Never deceive me like that again."

Darvix stared at Jaina for a moment before nodding, "Yes, ma'am."

The two were interrupted by an announcement over the hanger's PA system, "Landing crew to pad-4A. Incoming transport shuttle. Repeat, Landing crew to pad-4A."

"Must be our new pilot," Jaina said. "Tycho recruited her from Adumar."

"Adumari pilot?" Darvix asked as he tried to rub the grease out of his hands. "Hope you know what you're getting into. They're a pretty fiery bunch…If you'll excuse me, Colonel, I've got to keep working on the avionics package on this X-Wing."

"No, you'll be greeting the pilot with me, Major," Jaina affixed her executive officer with a cold glare. "Seeing as that's part of your duty as my second-in-command."

"Ma'am, with all due respect-"

"This isn't an option, Major Zorvan."

Darvix's shoulders slumped, "Yes, ma'am."

Jaina smiled and walked towards the shuttle, her executive officer in tow. By now the shuttle had already landed, its entry ramp lowered. A few of the deckhands were moving bags onto a moving cart, no doubt to be placed in a temporary living assignment. Finally, Jaina spotted the pilot descending the ramp. She appeared to be in her early-to-mid thirties, clad in normal civilian dress, shoulder length black hair tied in a ponytail. Jaina reached for her datapad to read the pilot's name.

"Colonel," Darvix said quietly, "What's that pilot's serial registration number?"

Jaina raised a brow. Every pilot from the early days of the Rebel Alliance to the present was assigned a unique serial identification number that correlated with a master registry. No numbers were ever recycled, so even after a pilot died or retired, that number would forever be associated with them.

"Registration number Seven-Six-Nine-Oh-Eight-Nine-Theta-Two-Alpha," Jaina replied. "Zorvan, are you alright? You look live you've just seen a ghost."

The color had vanished from Darvix's face, "You're right, Colonel. I'm looking at a dead woman."


	7. Reunion

**Chapter Five - Reunion**

Cheriss ke Hanadi gazed through the forward viewport as she leaned back in the co-pilot seat of the shuttle. The molten black and blue of hyperspace had surrounded the shuttle for several hours now, meaning that she would be arriving at her destination shortly. It had been a few months since she had stepped foot on a military vessel. After the war, Cheriss chose to retire from active duty, a decision she quickly came to regret. Almost immediately after returning to her homeworld, Cheriss began missing the daily routine and constant work that military life provided. She simply didn't know what to do with herself. With any luck, she wouldn't have to worry about that at the end of the day.

The tunnel of hyperspace gave way to a bright stream of stars as the shuttle reverted into realspace. The desert planet Tatooine appeared in the shuttle's viewport, and orbiting above it was an Imperial Star Destroyer, the Mon Mothma. Cheriss hadn't been a witness to the Galactic Empire's rule of the galaxy, so she had never associated the Star Destroyer with that tyranny. Despite that, she could easily recognize just how imposing the ship was. Its angular lines and colossal structure radiated an aura of authority. If she didn't know that the Star Destroyer wasn't part of the Galactic Alliance's fleet, she would have found it to be extraordinarily menacing.

"Major, I hope you don't mind if I ask what brings you out to this sector," the shuttle pilot said as he guided the craft towards the Star Destroyer. "Tatooine isn't really known to be a great vacation spot."

"Honestly I thought I was going to Mon Calamari," Cheriss replied. "I'm as disappointed as you are."

"I take it you're here on military assignment, then?"

"You could say that," Cheriss said. "All I'm really here for is to audition for Rogue Squadron."

"If that's the case, you might as well just turn in your transfer papers," the pilot responded as he vectored the shuttle closer to the docking bay.

"I'm not sure if I follow you."

"Military lore says Rogue Squadron's cursed," the pilot said as he cast a sideways glance at Cheriss. "No one willingly accepts an assignment to that unit. Last I heard there were only four members on the active roster, three remaining Rogues from the war and one pilot who was forced out of retirement against his will."

"We can't possibly be talking about the same unit," Cheriss replied.

"It is if we're talking about the disaster unit that's under the command of Jaina Solo," the pilot said in turn. "I don't exactly buy into the "cursed" angle, but I do believe Solo's done her part to run the unit into the ground. That squadron was given the kiss of death the minute Antilles and Darklighter handed command over to her."

Cheriss' eyes narrowed for a moment, "What's your name and rank?"

"Flight Officer Erim Zess," The pilot replied, his eyes betraying a look of annoyance.

"You've got a lot of nerve to be questioning the decision-making of Generals Antilles and Darklighter," Cheriss said, casting a glare at the young pilot.

"I didn't say it was their idea," Zess replied. "Probably political pressure forced them to put some sort of a "hero" figure in charge of their most visible unit. Can't say it's worked, though. You don't see many pilots flocking to a unit with a commanding officer that hasn't shown anyone she's fit for command."

Zess guided the shuttle along its final approach to the hanger, "No one in their right mind accepts an assignment to Rogue Squadron. It's either a death-trap or a career killer."

"You're right, I suppose," Cheriss said as she felt the shuttle's landing skids touch down on the hanger floor. "It takes a special person to be a Rogue."

She undid her seat harness and stood up, walking to the back of the hanger, "You have to be partly a soldier, but mostly a madman. I guess you just don't have what it takes."

Zess glanced towards Cheriss once more, "and you do?"

"Sanity is highly overrated," Cheriss keyed for the shuttle's ramp to lower, "and nothing would bring me more honor than to fly amongst the Rogues

***

* * *

Darvix forced himself to run down his mental checklist. Was he drunk? Hungover, perhaps, but not drunk at that moment. Was he suffering from a concussion? Darvix didn't recall suffering any recent head trauma. Perhaps it was a spice induced hallucination? No, he had limited himself to Carababba tabac miniature cigarras over the last six years. There was no reason to be seeing things that weren't there.

Darvix rubbed his forehead and glanced at the shuttle ramp again. Surely, that couldn't be her, it was impossible. A decade ago he watched in horror as an Imperial starfighter slammed into her X-Wing, destroying both ships. There was no way she could have survived that. If she had, he would have heard about it long ago. Darvix couldn't allow himself to acknowledge what he was seeing. He refused to acknowledge what he was seeing.

Cheriss ke Hanadi was dead, yet there she stood at the base of the shuttle.

"Is there a problem, Major Zorvan?" Jaina asked.

"What's her name and birthworld?" Darvix asked quietly.

Jaina glanced at Darvix for a moment before pulling the information up on her datapad, "Major Cheriss ke Hanadi, birthworld Adumar. Service record indicates she graduated from the Academy with top honors. She has flown with two A-Wing units and served as commanding officer of one of them. Prior to that she was an X-Wing pilot with Rogue Squadron, then under the command of General Antilles."

As that information began to sink into Darvix's mind, he took a few steps towards the shuttle. The steps became a brisk walk, the brisk walk a jog, the jog a full on sprint. The only thing in his vision was the woman he thought was dead, his mind subconsciously blocking out everything else within the spacious hangar. As he charged towards the shuttle, Darvix noticed that Cheriss had spotted him. She seemed to be somewhat startled by the fact that a man was barreling towards her at full speed.

Darvix grabbed the startled woman's shoulders firmly in his hands, scanning over her face as a look of confusion and anxiety graced his own, "It can't be…you can't be her, you're dead."

Cheriss seemed perplexed for a moment before her eyes grew wide as she realized who she was looking at. Her hands came up to cover her mouth to stifle a gasp of shock.

"They told me you were dead, Darvix," she said quietly.

Darivx could only shake his head as he placed his hand under her chin. Without thinking, he drew her into his body and pressed his lips against her, a gesture Cheriss returned without hesitation.

"Mr. Zorvan," Jaina said as she stepped up behind him, "when I ordered you to greet the new pilot, this is not what I meant."

***

* * *

"I don't understand," Darvix said as he watched Jaina exit the briefing room. "I saw that Phantom TIE slam into the underside of your X-Wing. There's no way you could have survived that... I mean, why didn't I hear anything?"

Cheriss was silent for a moment before answering, "Just before it slammed into my ship, I managed to trigger the eject sequence."

Darvix covered his face with his hands as the memories came flooding back. Over ten years ago the New Republic was facing a new threat from what remained of the old Galactic Empire: a cloaking system small enough to be placed into a starfighter. Naturally, Rogue Squadron was selected to investigate and neutralize the threat. It was at that point Darvix was accepted into their ranks as a young, greenhorn pilot fresh out of the Academy. Over the course of two years they managed to steal one of the prototype fighters and kidnap one of the lead designers of the cloaking systems. By all rights, that should have been it as far as Rogue Squadron's involvement went. The information went back to New Republic Intelligence, and the Rogues returned to a life of monotonous patrol missions.

It was on one such assignment that everything went wrong. While patrolling a sector only a handful of lightyears away from their assigned cruiser, Rogue Squadron was ambushed by a squadron of the Imperial Remnant's cloaked TIE Fighters, or the Phantom Fighters as they had become to be known. Before Darvix knew what was happening, his X-Wing had been crippled by enemy fire. As his R2 unit worked on restoring the damaged vessel's hyperdrive, his sensors had alerted him to an incoming enemy craft that he could not see.

He should have been dead. Then someone intervened.

One of his fellow pilots broke off their escape pattern and made a hard-line flight towards him. In a split-second, Darvix glimpsed as the pilot hurtled themselves between him and the invisible oncoming fighter. A collision occurred, and both vessels exploded into a ball of flame. Just moments later, the hyperdrive in Darvix's X-Wing came to life and he was whisked out of the danger zone.

All of the Rogues save one escaped with their lives that day, but the pilot who Darvix thought had perished was the most important person in the universe to him: Cheriss ke Hanadi. She was his wingmate and friend, but most of all, she was his fiancé. Only hours earlier he had proposed to her. Sure, both of them were young, but it wasn't out of the ordinary for pilots to do something like that at that age. They could never be certain of how long they would be alive.

Little did Darvix know how quickly Cheriss would be taken from her. For the last ten years, he had been convinced that she was dead. Every moment of his life had been consumed by a whirlwind of depression, anger, and sadness because of that. Yet, here she was, sitting right in front of him. The same dark hair and eyes, the same slender figure. Sure, her features had aged somewhat (though she was still a marvel to behold) and the horrors of war were present in her eyes, but she still emitted the same aura of strength and valor she always had. He couldn't deny any longer that she was gone.

Cheriss ke Hanadi, his friend and lover, was alive and well.

"Why didn't I hear about you?" Darvix asked.

"Not long after the Rogues escaped, an Imperial shuttle arrived to investigate the scene," Cheriss explained. "They found me and brought me on board. I was in bad shape and passed out the second I was laid down on the floor of the shuttle. When I woke up, I was in an Imperial Remant prisoner of war camp."

"But the last of the Imperial Remnant broke up shortly after we put an end to the Phantom program," Darvix said. "Hell, Pallaeon signed the armistice treaty a year before that. How could you have ended up in a P-O-W camp?"

"Some splinter organizations didn't feel that Pallaeon made the right choice, I happened to be picked up by one of them," Cheriss replied.

"…How long were you a prisoner?" Darvix asked.

"I was there until about six months prior to the beginning of the Yuuhzan Vong War," Cheriss glanced at the ground for a moment, "about eight years…It was hell, Darvix. Absolute hell.

"When I ejected from my X-Wing, durasteel shrapnel completely severed both of my legs and my arm. My other arm was so badly wounded that it was useless. The only medical attention I received upon arriving to the camp was to have my open wounds sealed and my damaged arm amputated. They didn't even bother to fit me with prosthetic legs so I could move on my own. No…they just threw me in a cell and fed me once or twice a day like some sort of diseased pet."

Cheriss took a deep, shaky breath, "I was there for eight years, unable to move on my own. Eight years of staring at the same cell door, being fed by the same guards. The entire time I was just a freak of a human being. My deformed body sickened me during my every waking moment. The only thing that kept me going every day was the thought of you…That someday I might get out and you would be the first one there to help me."

Darvix felt his heart shatter. As he sat there, wide-eyed in terror, hand covering his mouth, Cheriss continued her story.

"I had lost all track of how long I had been in there by the time I was rescued," Cheriss continued. "Apparently the splinter organization that controlled the camp had abandoned it when a New Republic task force entered the area. Out of nowhere the cell door to my opened, but it wasn't the usual stormtrooper guard…It was General Antilles. He was commanding the task force that had pushed into the area, and when he discovered there was a prisoner of war camp on one of the nearby worlds, he insisted on accompanying the unit that was tasked to free the prisoners."

Cheriss smiled faintly, "It was the Rogues, of course. Gavin Darklighter was in charge of the unit at the time. The pilots and a small foot platoon task force were moving through the cells, escorting prisoners to safety, providing medical attention to those that needed it. Both Darklighter and General Antilles were making one last sweep of the area when they stumbled onto my cell. Despite my appearance, the General recognized me immediately.

"I'm not sure when I passed out, but when I had come to I was on board the Frigate Redemption, receiving medical attention," Cheriss said. "I was fitted with cybernetic limbs, and for the first time in eight years, I was able to move on my own…"

Cheriss shook her head again, "General Antilles was the first one to visit me in my hospital room. I immediately asked him where you were, and…he closed up. This look of sadness formed on his face as he looked away from me."

Darvix affixed his gaze to the floor as Cheriss continued, "He told me that you had left the military to join the Jedi Academy and that you had been studying under Luke Skywalker…The General said that a few years earlier there had been an accident, that you had been killed while on an important assignment for the Jedi. He mentioned something about you trying to navigate through an asteroid field but I had stopped paying attention at that point. I was free, I had my arms and legs back, yet it felt so hollow. What I wanted more than anything was just to see you again, but I found out that wasn't going to happen."

"What did you do after that?" Darvix asked.

"The only thing I could do," Cheriss heaved a sigh. "I went through the rehabilitation and I immediately returned to service with the New Republic as an A-Wing pilot."

"Oh Cheriss," Darvix could bear to look at her, "I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have had to go through all that."

"We're not going to debate whether or not I should have risked my life to save you," Cheriss stood and strode towards Darvix, placing her hands on his shoulders. "That was over ten years ago… I just want to know one thing…"

"You want to know what happened to me," Darvix completed her thought as he finally looked up at her.

Cheriss only nodded.

"A year before the Vong arrived I accepted an extremely dangerous, but extremely important mission from the Jedi Academy," Darvix said. "I went looking for an ancient Sith space station that that was believed to be the final resting place of two Jedi that had vanished thousands of years ago."

Darvix frowned slightly, "It was a six year journey. Three years to get there, three years to get back. Before I left, Master Skywalker falsified my records at the Academy and at Coruscant, listing me as having been killed in the Lehon system. We couldn't risk anyone coming after me. Only one other person aside from myself and Skywalker knew, and that was Master Katarn."

"You mean General Antilles didn't know you were still alive?" Cheriss asked.

"No," Darvix replied. "Not General Antilles, not Starfighter Command, not the smuggler networks…Hell, not even the great Airen Cracken knew I was still alive."

"If only I had known…" Cheriss said quietly as she sat down beside Darvix.

Darvix turned in his seat and wrapped his arms around the woman he loved so dearly, "I'm so sorry, Cheriss… I never meant to hurt you like that."

Cheriss only shook her head and buried her face in his shoulder, unable to muster any words. Darvix could feel the fabric of his shirt becoming wet with her tears.

"I love you," he said quietly. "I never stopped loving you."

Cheriss simply nodded her response as she strengthened her hold on him.


	8. Phantoms of the Past

**Chapter Six – Phantoms of the Past**

It was an unusual thing to behold, an Imperial Star Destroyer lumbering over the ice-planet Lur. It was a planet just as hostile as Hoth, making it one of the least desirable travel destinations in the Galaxy. Ships simply didn't pass through and park in orbit around this particular planet. That alone made the thought of a military cruiser orbiting the desolate world even more ridiculous. Yet here was the starship, flanked by an escort of aging TIE-Fighters and TIE-Interceptors. On first glance, most would assume the ship belonged to the Galactic Alliance.

Since the fall of the Empire and marginalization of the Imperial Remnant, Star Destroyers had been integrated into the Alliance's (then New Republic's) fleet. It wasn't an uncommon sight to see Star Destroyers and Mon Calamari Cruisers flying side by side. Once they were vessels that were iconic of two warring factions; the Rebel Alliance and the Galactic Empire. For years they sparred, fighting for control of the Galaxy. Then The Battle of Endor exploded, setting forth the chain reaction that would lead to the fall of Emperor Palpatine's tyrannical Imperial menace and the birth of the New Republic.

The fall of Coruscant to a band of snubfighter pilots marked the end of the Empire as it had existed for decades. From there, the Imperials were forced to retreat into small sectors. This would become known as the Imperial Remnant, and with each passing year that Remnant grew smaller and smaller. Nineteen years after the Battle of Yavin, Admiral Gillead Pallaeon – the former right-hand of feared Grand Admiral Thrawn and then ruler of the Remnant – signaled that the last vestiges of the old Galactic Empire would surrender to the New Republic. The terms of surrender allowed the Remnant to maintain control of the meager number of star systems still in possession and further stated that the New Republic would acknowledge that the Remnant was no longer a rogue ghost of the Empire's past, but a completely separate state that would be politically equal to the New Republic.

For most within the Imperial Remnant, it was a time of rejoicing. The ghost of Palpatine's ruthless Empire could finally be cast aside. For others, it was simply reason to forge their own path. For in their eyes, the Galactic Empire would rise again, and it was their duty to bring that event to pass. The few who refused to acknowledge Pallaeon's terms of surrender fractured once more. They would continue to adhere to the ways of the Empire and wear its insignia proudly.

Such as the Star Destroyer orbiting above Lur and the Lamba class shuttle that was departing from her hangar. Proudly displayed on the small craft's vertical wing was the sign of the Galactic Empire, a symbol that once struck fear into the hearts of countless beings across the Galaxy. The shuttle made its way towards the ice planet's surface, skimming along the frozen tundra. In the distance, a rumbling signaled the opening of a secret hangar hidden below the surface. The shuttle's repulsorlifts fired as it slowly descended below the land, concealing itself within.

Admiral Reyov Naolin frowned as he descended down the shuttle's ramp, setting foot onto the cold durasteel floor of the hidden research facility. It was chilly, the generators couldn't provide enough power to heat all portions of the facility. The Admiral clasped his hands behind his back and made his way towards the hangar's exit, nodding towards a young officer who he assumed would guide him towards the research bay.

"Admiral, our researchers would like you to know that tests have been extraordinarily successful," the officer said. "We suspect that the final product will be ready within the month."

"Within the month?" The Admiral asked. "You are to be commended. You're further ahead of schedule than I could have hoped for."

"My men will be pleased to hear of your approval," the officer replied.

The officer led Admiral Naolin into the research laboratory. It was a rather large room, spacious enough to hold within it a single starfigher and countless pieces of research and testing equipment. Researches and military personnel moved briskly from station to station, monitoring various screens and readouts. In the center of the research bay sat a lone TIE-Defender, the crowning achievement of the Galactic Empire's naval fleet. It was a starfighter that once struck fear into the hearts of Rebellion pilots, and for good reason. With its unparalleled speed and firepower, it could outmatch most Rebel starfighters. Even at the present it was a formidable foe for the Rebel insurgents.

"If you're ready, we're set to begin the test Admiral," the officer said.

Admiral Naolin simply nodded his approval, his face expressionless as the test began. The room began to hum to life, the sound of generators supplying power filling the air. The researches carefully monitored the vital signs of the experiment as the power charge continued. Admiral Naolin's eyes were directed to the TIE-Defender as a purple flash lit up the room.

Purple and blue streaks danced across the starfighter's hull momentarily. A split second later, the TIE-Defender vanished from sight.

Admiral Naolin smiled as he approached the spot where the starfighter had just been. Slowly, he pulled the glove off of his hand and held it forward. Instead of passing through empty space, he made contact with a cool, metallic object: the cloaked TIE-Defender.

"May these phantoms once more strike fear into the souls of those wretched Rebel scum," the Admiral said quietly to himself.

***

* * *

"You have two weeks to fill out your roster and support staff," Admiral Darklighter said from behind his desk, not even bothering to glance at the two Rogue Squadron officers.

It had been a long journey for Admiral Gavin Darklighter. What seemed like eons ago he had begun his career with the military as a wide-eyed rookie pilot, hand-picked to fly for Rogue Squadron by Wedge Antilles. His natural talent led him through the ranks with ease. When Antilles, Celchu, Klivian, and Janson finally retired, Darklighter was given command of the New Republic's most prestigious military unit during their most trying times; the Yuhzaan Vong War. After the war ended, he decided to hang up his flight helmet and accept a promotion to Fleet Command.

"Two weeks?" Jaina grimaced. "Sir with all due respect, I've two other pilots besides Mr. Zorvan and myself. The talent pool isn't exactly full right now either. I need at least two months to find pilots and properly train them."

"You'll have to forgive me if I'm a little impatient with a squadron that has sixteen brand new X-Wings but no pilots," Admiral Darklighter cast a glance at Darvix.

"Don't look at me," Darvix replied, a coy smile forming on his lips. "I thought acquiring those X-Wings was some sort of a Winter Fete miracle."

"Force bless us, everyone," Jaina said, trying to ease the tension in the Admiral's office.

The Admiral wasn't amused, "You have two weeks to get Rogue Squadron in order. If you don't have your roster and support crew in place by then I will reassign the four of you to alternate units."

"But sir-"

"I can't keep buying you time, Colonel Solo," Darklighter said, a pained expression on his face. "The rest of Starfighter Command are starting to ask questions about why you're sitting around in a defunct unit. I can't let you flounder around with this any longer."

"Admiral-"

"You're dismissed, Colonel," The Admiral cut her off once more. "I need to have a few moments with your executive officer in private."

Admiral Darklighter watched as a rather dejected Colonel Solo walked out of his office, leaving him alone with her executive officer, "Let's get one thing understood, Mr. Zorvan. I don't know why Wedge asked you to reenlist, and to be honest, I don't care what his reasoning is. Just know that I will not tolerate your antics like he did."

"With all due respect, Admiral," Darvix said, "it's Colonel Solo's responsibility to keep her pilots in line, not yours."

"Colonel Solo is a relatively inexperienced commanding officer," Admiral Darklighter replied. "I know you. You're going to do everything in your power to take advantage of that."

"Ah but Admiral, I am a changed man," Darvix said through a sneer.

"I'll believe it when I see it, Zorvan," the Admiral spat. "I'm submitting paperwork that will require you to undergo a bi-weekly psychological exam."

Darvix stood up and slammed his fists onto the Admiral's desk, "Now just a minute you son of a bitch-"

"I ought to write you up for insubordination just for that!" Darklighter's voice rose in volume to match Darvix's. "You are on an extremely short leash with me, Major. If I get even a whiff of another mental breakdown on your part I will not hesitate to discharge you from active duty. I will not tolerate another _Ender_-like situation, is that understood?"

"Yes…Sir," Darvix muttered through clenched teeth.

"Antilles and Skywalker aren't around to coddle you anymore, Major," Darklighter said. "You are under my command now. If I find you unfit for duty you will be gone and you will never be able to show your face to the armed forces ever again. Get out of my office."

Darvix didn't even bother to salute his superior as he stormed out of the office.

***

* * *

While Jaina was waiting outside of Admiral Darklighter's office she could hear the shouting match between her executive officer and the Admiral. When she tried to talk to Darvix afterwords, he simply waved his hand dismissively and retreated to his quarters. Suffice to say, her curiosity was piqued. What could Darvix have said that would illicit that kind of reaction from the Admiral? Perhaps Mr. Zorvan's personnel file would have some answers for her.

Jaina sat cross-legged at the terminal within her room, calling up Darvix's personal records. Her jaw nearly hit the floor as the data came on her screen. Twenty-four noted instances of insubordination towards a superior officer dating back to his time at the Starfighter Academy. Five instances of minor theft. Eleven times caught slicing into sensitive New Republic data archives. That was page one of his disciplinary record.

She scoured through the numerous evaluation entries from instructors and his lone commanding officer. Several repeating keywords showed up in each entry: Cerebral, risk-taker, ruthless, efficient. His kill totals in simulator runs were nothing special, but his assist-on-kill (a statistic that is recorded when a pilot lands a hit on a target a wingman eventually destroys) totals were eye-popping.

Further down the list she reached the lone entry under commendations. Jaina shook her head and glanced at the screen again. Major (then Lieutenant) Zorvan was a Kalidor Crescent recipient? He had received the New Republic's highest honor? That misanthropic bastard?

As Jaina was about to log out of the system, a small entry at the bottom of his service record caught her eye; a link to Darvix's medical and psychological record. Jaina entered in her command credentials to access the data, and a moment later a new page appeared on her screen.

_********__.xx _ – Major Hobbie Klivian, Instructor

_Cadet Zorvan spent thirty-seven hours in the simulator repeating the same mission program. Showing tendencies of obsessive-compulsive behavior. Cadet's profile flagged for further psychological profiling._

_********__.xx _ – Doctor Derik Vapasi, Academy Physician

_Cadet Zorvan admitted to sick bay after roommate reported the patient suffering from uncontrollable screaming seemingly caused by hallucinations. Cadet Zorvan has been sedated and is pending further psychological review. Likely stress-induced, unsure if deep-rooted psychological. Will investigate further._

_********__.xx _ – General Wedge Antilles, CO Rogue Squadron

_Flight Officer Zorvan pulled from escort-flight Y-Wing. Incoherent, screaming uncontrollably. Has not spoken in four days._

_********__.xx _ – Colonel Tycho Celchu, XO Rogue Squadron

_Lieutenant Commander Darvix Zorvan currently a prisoner aboard the Imperial Remnant ISD Ender. Broke with disguise and attacked an Imperial Captain Reyov Naolin. Appeared to be suffering from some sort of psychosis. Mission in jeopardy._

_********__.xx _ – Major Corran Horn, Two-Flight Commander Rogue Squadron

_Lieutenant Commander Darvix Zorvan escaped from Imperial Custody in a hijacked TIE-Interceptor. Commander Zorvan Then chased an un-cloaked Phantom TIE Fighter to Bilbringi IV's surface. Upon finding Commander Zorvan's TIE Interceptor, Zorvan was spotted standing over an enemy pilot, preparing to kill him via execution. Once confronted, Commander Zorvan attacked me._

_Recommend immediate discharge from active duty and around-the-clock psychological evaluation._

_**.xx – Doctor Vaj Manten, Mon Remonda Medical Staff**_

_Lieutenant Commander Darvix Zorvan admitted to Mon Remonda sick bay. Injured while on foot by Major Corran Horn (who was acting in self-defense). Patient sustained headwound, destroying the subject's optical prosthetic eyes._

_Shortly after arriving, patient Zorvan attempted to commit suicide. Patient is now on suicide watch as per New Republic armed forces medical protocol. If required, patient will be placed into a medically induced coma for his own protection._

_Patient has shown significant psychological distress since being admitted to the Starfighter Academy. Recommend immediate discharge and quarantine within Veteran Hospital psychological ward. Will perform final psychological exam and make final recommendation in two days._

_**.xx – Doctor Vaj Manten, Mon Remonda Medical Staff**_

_Psychological exam on patient Darvix Zorvan canceled. Patient is to be released to the care of one Luke Skywalker._

_Military psychological and medical record concerning Lieutenant Commander Darvix Zorvan is hereby closed._


	9. Undrevalued Talent

**Chapter Seven – Undervalued Talent**

Wedge Antilles paused for a moment in front of her door. He was conflicted to say the least. What would one of his closest friends say if they knew what Wedge was about to ask her? What would her reaction be? He was about to ask for an enormous favor. On the one hand, the rational part of his mind recognized that she would understand. That didn't stop him from worrying, though. The last thing Wedge wanted was for her to think that he was using his near-celebrity status to goad her into doing something she didn't want to do.

There wasn't much point in turning back now. He had already traveled from Tatooine to Tanaab and had even lied to his wife as to the reason he took the trip. No, he was committed. He had to do this. Wedge took a deep breath and depressed the button that rang the door chime. Moments later the door opened, revealing a rather surprised face.

"General, I had no idea you were coming," the woman said. "Please, come on in."

Wedge smiled and stepped into the modest apartment, "We can do without the formalities, can't we Inyri?"

"You'll have to forgive me," she replied. "I only referred to you by your rank for over a decade."

Inyri Janson (Wedge still hadn't gotten used to calling her that) had served in Rogue Squadron for years. Wedge had always regarded her as being one of his best pilots, for few had survived as many years of service and as many skirmishes as she had. A career Rogue, Inyri had flown with the squadron from the fall of Imperial Coruscant through the end of the Yuhzaan Vong War. She was a decorated veteran and multiple ace, one of the most gifted to ever sit behind a flightstick. She had earned her retirement.  
But here Wedge was, about to ask her to reconsider.

"Shall we cut to the chase?" Inyri asked. "Why are you here, Wedge?"

Wedge was silent for a moment. Why bother sugarcoating this? Inyri was never one for dancing around the point, "I want you to come back. To the Rogues, I mean."

For a long while the two of them stood in silence. "Have you talked to Wes?" Inyri asked.

Wedged nodded solemnly, "I wouldn't have come here without talking to him."

"What did he say?" Inyri glanced at her hands.

"He wasn't very happy with me," Wedge explained. "I can't blame him, though. The two of you have earned an eternity worth of alone-time and here I am... asking you to give it up and help me out again."

"Did he tell you not to ask me?"

"No," Wedge heaved a sigh. "He said that it's your decision and that he'll respect whatever path you choose."

"That doesn't sound like Wes at all," Inyri raised a brow.

"You're telling me," Wedge shrugged. "I suppose you managed to get him up to the emotional age of 16."

"Some of us are miracle workers," Inyri offered a faint smile. "Why me?"

Wedge glanced at the floor, "I caught wind of this about a month ago and chances are Solo found out today. She's got about two weeks to put an active unit together or high command is going to disband Rogue Squadron. I just need you there long enough for Jaina to find some new pilots to train"

"So you want me to come out of retirement to prevent that from happening?" Inyri didn't bother to wait for an answer, "Who's on the roster now?"

"The core unit from the Vong war is Jaina, Nevil, and Lensi," Wedge said. "Tycho and Hobbie are talking to Pash, Orryl, and Azzameen right now. Cheriss ke Hanadi's transfer papers went through yesterday."

"You have seven pilots out of twelve," Inyri mused. "Anyone you're not telling me about?"

"Actually seven pilots out of sixteen," Wedge deflected her question. "High command wants the crew numbers increased by four pilots for the time being."

"Wonderful," Inyri crossed her arms over her chest, "Anyone you're not telling me about?"

"Hm?" Wedge winced. He didn't want to talk about _him_. "Oh…no one, just her executive officer. Some bush pilot who's been out of work for a decade."

"Do I know him?" Inyri prodded further.

"You've ah…crossed paths before," Wedge spied the doorway.

"Really?" a half-smile formed on her lips, "Who? Corran Horn? Kell Tainer? Myn Donos?"

"No, no," Wedge coughed. "It's..uh… Dap Zorvan."

Inyri shook her head, "That's funny, Wedge. I know you're a senior citizen now but you're not crazy, are you? Dap Zorvan?"

"He's done a lot of growing up," Wedge said. "I talked to Skywalker and got his approval."

"Before or after you strong-armed Zorvan into coming back to the Rogues?"

"After," Wedge smiled faintly. "So…will you do it, Inyri?"

Inyri took a few steps away from him, leaning against a windowsill, "I didn't get to leave on my own terms, you know. High command forced me out, thought I had seen too much war. Gave me a nice retirement package and sent me on my way."

"Were you ready to hang up the gloves and helmet?" Wedge asked.

"I don't know, Wedge," Inyri frowned. "At some point you have to concede that you're not the same pilot you used to be. However…I don't think I was spent. I thought I still had something left to offer."

"Do you still think that?"

"Like I said, Wedge," Inyri pushed off the windowsill, "I just don't know."

"Come back with me," Wedge offered. "Run a few simulations and see if you still have it in you."

"You're trying to appeal to the twenty-year-old still inside me, you know," Inyri said. "That part of me that still wants some excitement to break up the monotony that is life. When do you leave?"

"In about two hours," Wedge replied. "What about Wes?"

"Oh, I'll make it up to him," Inyri turned her back to Wedge and began to walk to her room.

"How?"

"I don't think you want to pry into my bedroom affairs, sir," Inyri cast Wedge another smile.

"Duly noted, Major."

***

* * *

_Imperial Class II Star Destroyer Mon Mothma  
Tatooine Star System_

Jaina depressed the doorchime button and began to tap her foot impatiently. Darvix was supposed to have checked in for the morning briefing but had skipped out, just like he had skipped out every morning briefing since arriving on duty. Normally Jaina made it a point to stay away from her pilots' personal quarters as a sign of respect, but if Darvix wasn't going to show her any respect there was no reason for her to show him any.

She was becoming more and more wary of her executive officer as the days went past. Stumbling into his medical records didn't help matters. Not only did she think that Darvix was an arrogant misanthrope, she thought that he was a mentally unbalanced arrogant misanthrope. How someone like that could have received praise from the likes of her Uncle Luke and General Wedge Antilles was beyond her. All she could see was a very mean-spirited man who wanted nothing to do with the responsibilities given to him.

Jaina could feel her blood boil as silence continued to follow her ringing of the door chime. Unable to wait any longer, Jaina keyed her manual override code and forced the door open.

"Where the hell are you Zorvan?"

"Living area," Darvix shouted in turn. "Bring caf."

Jaina gritted her teeth as she made her way towards his voice, "Where the hell have you been? I haven't seen you since our meeting with Admiral Darklighter two days ago."

Jaina stopped in her tracks as Darvix's living area came into view. All over the floor were crumpled sheets of flimsy with various numbers and equations scrawled over them. Sitting at a caf table in the middle of the room was Darvix, who looked as if he had been on a few late-night drinking binges. Exhaustion was evident on his face, his hair was a tangled mess.

"Sithspit, when was the last time you slept?" Jaina asked.

"When did you say we met with Admiral Darklighter," Darvix didn't bother to look away from the sheet of flimsy in front of him.

"Two days ago," Jaina carefully stepped towards him.

"About eight hours before that, then," Darvix replied. "Did you bring that pot of caf in the kitchen?"

"Major, you are aware you were supposed to-"

"Cafcafcafcafcafcafcafcafcaf," Darvix repeated.

Jaina rolled her eyes and retreated to the kitchen to fetch the pot Darvix wanted, "This stuff is luke-warm, do you want to heat it up."

"Don't care, need caf," Darvix replied, taking the pot from her as she stepped back to the table.

"Just what in Yavin's moons have you been…" Jaina trailed off as Darvix pulled the lid off of the barely-warm caf, bringing it to his lips and chugging it straight from the pot. He didn't seem to care that half of the liquid was spilling right onto his shirt and lap.

"Colonel you're going to love this," Darvix replied as he set the now empty pot of caf on the table. "I know who we need to go after!"

"Excuse me?"

"For the roster, I know who we need," Darvix said. "Well I don't know exactly who we need yet, but I know how to find them…Well I don't exactly know how to find them but I've got a pretty good idea of who we're looking for…Well I don't really know who we're looking for but the Galactic Alliance pilot's registry can tell us!"

Jaina could only stare at Darvix in confusion as he continued, "We can use this equation-" Darvix held up the sheet of flimsy in front of him- "to find our pilots!"

"Major, are you suggesting we use a mathematical equation to determine who should be flying in this squadron?" Jaina raised a hand to rub her temples.

"Yes!" Darvix had an almost giddy look on his face. "Isolated Pilot Efficiency. IpE for short. We can use this to find good pilots."

"What good pilots?" Jaina asked. "Every other squadron in the fleet has already had their pick. All we've got left is the junk-pile."

"No, no, no," Darvix shook his head vigorously, "We need to be smarter than that. We need to find undervalued talent!"

"Undervalued talent?"

"Undervalued talent," Darvix said, leaning back in his chairs. "Kills aren't everything. Commanding officers have been using kill totals to evaluate pilots for years, ignoring more important things such as efficiency and the ability to rack up assists."

"Assists?" Jaina shook her head. "Assists are just failed kills."

"That's what the Old Boy's Club wants you to think," Darvix replied. "Assists are near-misses. Almost kills. I can show you the numbers, pilots with high assist numbers over a certain period of time almost always trend positively. Those assists will become kills eventually."

"You're telling me your little equation is going to help us find those pilots?" Jaina asked.

"Exactly!" Darvix jumped out of his seat, "We're going to use this to find the pilots that have all of the skills to succeed but have simply been unlucky."

"You're out of your mind," Jaina folded her arms across her chest.

"What do we have to lose?" Darvix placed his hands on her shoulder, "This is going to be big, Solo. Enormous. Galaxy-shattering. No one is going to look at pilot evaluation the same way again."

Jaina looked at Darvix and sighed. He was serious about all of this. She could tell he was going to go forward with this idea whether she liked it or not. All she could do was keep him in line at this point, "Run your formula through the registry and get me a list of candidates. We'll talk about it tonight after you've had a chance to look over the results."

"Can't, you'll have to do it," Darvix retreated to the refresher. "I've got a date tonight."

As the door closed behind Darvix, Jaina could only let out an exasperated scream. If she wasn't careful, she'd become as mentally unbalanced as her executive officer.


	10. Unresolved Conflict

**Chapter 8 - Unresolved Conflict**

"I'm not really sure that I understand how this works," Jaina rubbed her temples with her thumb and middle finger. "All I see is a jumbled mess of numbers and variables hastily written down on a sheet of flimsy."

Darvix leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, "You don't need to understand how it works, you just need to input those parameters into the database and run a search."

"Indulge me, Major," Jaina said flatly.

Darvix frowned slightly as he attempted to formulate his thoughts, "Did you ever have a stretch of time while at the Starfighter Academy when you just couldn't score a kill? You'd land a few shots during your simulator runs on enemy units, but you couldn't finish them off?"

"Sure," Jaina shrugged. "I felt like I was doing everything right, but I just couldn't squeeze off the finishing shot. Went through a few week-long stretches like that."

"But you always trended back to your usual levels of performance, right?" Darvix asked.

"That's right," Jaina raised a brow, unsure of where Darvix was taking this conversation.

"You have to understand this: Ship-to-ship combat is a highly variable activity," Darvix said. "The best pilots are going to go through rough patches. Skill occasionally is overpowered by bad luck. Maybe for a little stretch of time your kills become mere assists…You're squaring up the target well, but you just can't land that last split-second shot to finish off an enemy unit. These things happen, but the fact you're getting assists shows that your flight and fighting process is sound."

What Darvix was saying was counter-intuitive to everything Jaina had been taught by her superiors in the Academy and Rogue Squadron. It was a commonly held belief that assists (recorded when a pilot scores a hit on an enemy unit but doesn't produce a kill) were simply failed attempts to down an opposing target. An assist was nothing to be proud of, but rather it was to be regarded as a lost opportunity. She didn't quite understand why Darvix seemed to speak so glowingly about that particular statistic.

"Are you trying to tell me that an assist is just as valuable as a kill?" Jaina was clearly skeptical.

"Not as valuable, no," Darvix replied. "Let's try to quantify this…For the sake of this argument, a kill is worth one point. An assist is worth eight-tenths of a point. Obviously a kill is more valuable, but an assist is still worth something to a pilot. It's also important to note that a pilot who records a stable amount of assists almost always trends positively."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that a pilot who records a large number of assists over a stretch of time is operating with a good flight process," Darvix explained. "Just like your bad stretches at the Academy: you were doing everything right, but the results simply weren't showing up. These pilots are simply running through a prolonged streak of bad luck…Maybe just a few tweaks is all they need to go from a low-kill/high-assist fighter pilot to a moderate-kill pilot."

"Let's say I give you that, an assist is valuable but not as valuable as a kill," Jaina said. "I'll also concede that pilots with high assist totals have a high probability of improving their kill totals. What does that have to do with finding our pilots?"

"This goes back to what I was talking about yesterday," Darvix said. "We need to fill this roster out by finding readily available, undervalued talent. Right now, the fleet as a whole doesn't place a whole lot of value on assist numbers when evaluating and selecting pilots. That's our secret: we're going to use both kills, assists to find the fliers we need."

"You're starting to sound an awful lot like my statistics instructor from primary school," Jaina said. "I got into this business so I could escape from the accounting jargon."

Darvix cast a glare at Jaina as he continued, "We don't have a whole lot of pilots to choose from, so we need to be creative about how we fill our roster. We have a few options available to us: we can offer a contract and assignment to a pilot who is currently without a squadron or we can try and wrestle a pilot away from a unit that doesn't want them. It's like free agent and waiver-wire transactions in shockball."

Jaina rolled her eyes, "I'm not a big sports fan, Major, but I think I see what you're getting at. You want to grab pilots off the scrap-heap that aren't getting a lot of attention."

"Now you've got it!" Darvix was grinning from ear to ear now. "We want to find low-risk pilots who can provide medium to high upside. The fliers we want to track down are good combat pilots who haven't gotten a fair chance. We're going to give them that chance and when those pilots eventually succeed…Colonel, we're going to be up for fleet-wide Officer of the Year accolades."

Jaina smiled to herself as she watched Darvix input the formula he had written up the night before into the pilot registry database, "Your numbers are going to find these pilots?"

"I guarantee it, Colonel," Darvix replied. "Isolated Pilot Efficiency, or I.P.E for short, does just want the name implies. It singles out one pilot's performance and analyzes how that individual fared in a simulation. I've weighted it to reward kills and assists as well as offering a bonus for completing the sim in a quick manner. If the pilot takes too long or is killed during the simulation, their IPE rating suffers."

"I've filtered out the first ten pilots on the depth charts of each squadron fleet-wide," Darvix continued. "I've also programmed the database to look at pilots without assigned units… Ready, Colonel?"

"By all means, show me the fruits of your labor," Jaina replied.

Darvix smiled once more and instructed the computer to execute the program he created. Moments later, the screen was filled with pilot names and simulation numbers, "What do all of these pilots seem to have in common, Colonel?"

Jaina leaned towards the screen, scouring through the data in front of her, "Low kill totals…but very high assist numbers. Every last one of them is listed low on their squadron's depth charts or not even assigned to a squadron at all."

"Freely available, undervalued talent," Darvix smugly folded his arms across his chest. "These are the pilots we need to go after."

Jaina glanced at the names again before looking at her executive officer. She was somewhat surprised to see how exhausted Darvix appeared. For a moment, Jaina felt a slight pang of guilt for questioning his motivation only a few days later, but she knew that Darvix still had a lot to prove to her. This was a good first step, though. At least he was taking this aspect of his assignment seriously.

"Go get some rest, Major," Jaina patted Darvix's shoulder. "I'll take care of the paperwork and get a batch of twenty candidates here in the next day or two."

Darvix opened his mouth to protest but was cut-off before he could speak, "That's an order, Major. Get some sleep. You look worse than my dad after an all-night binge with Lando Calrissian."

"Yes, ma'am," Darvix replied. "I hope I didn't bore you too much."

Jaina waved her hand as a dismissal to Darvix as she began to sift through the list of pilots on the screen

***

* * *

It had a while since Inyri had set foot on a military vessel. It was an odd, almost nostalgic feeling to be back in these surroundings. All around her were vehicles and weapons of war; A-Wings, X-Wings, B-Wings and even a few scatted Imperial TIE starfighters. Not so long ago each of these ships were locked in combat, but now they sat idle awaiting a call to action that Inyri both dreaded and anticipated. For every pilot, there was a certain amount of fear felt when they sat down behind the flightstick of a starfighter, but the best pilots also felt a certain amount of exhilaration to offset that fright.

"General Antilles is waiting for you in the conference room, ma'am," A deck officer said, startling Inyri out of her reverie. "Right this way."

Inyri followed the deck officer out of the hanger and through the hallways of the ISD Mon Mothma. Like many of the pilots her age, Inyri felt somewhat unsettled as she traveled through the Star Destroyer. These had been symbols of the tyrannical Galactic Empire and had struck fear into the hearts of even the most seasoned military officers. Walking freely through one almost seemed taboo to Inyri. This was the last place she would have wanted to find herself twenty years earlier.

The deck officer left Inyri standing in front of the entryway to the recreation room assigned to Rogue Squadron. Inyri took a steadying breath as she keyed for the door to slide open. She was greeted by familiar faces, men and women she had fought alongside for years. They exchanged the usual formalities and pleasantries. As happy as Inyri was to see her old comrades once more, she couldn't shake the apprehension that had settled in the pit of her stomach. She needed to settle back into routine as quickly as possible, for the longer she waited the easier it would be for her to change her mind and return home.

"Settle down everyone," Wedge Antilles said from the front of the room. "I'd like to call this Geriatrics Anonymous meeting to order."

"We're not that old, are we?" Ace Azzameen asked.

Major Lane "Ace" Azzameen was a long-time Rebel Alliance and New Republic veteran and was widely regarded as being one of the Rogue Squadron elder statesmen. He had begun flying for the Alliance shortly after the Battle of Hoth, rising through the ranks quickly. By the Battle of Endor he had managed to accumulate a staggering twenty-five starfighter kills as well as being credited with downing an Imperial Interdictor Star Destroyer. During the Battle of Endor itself, he had served as a quad-turret gunner aboard the Millenium Falcon, participating in the tunnel run that eventually led to the demise of the second Death Star.

After the Battle of Endor, he was transferred to New Republic Intelligence where he served for over a decade before accepting an assignment to fly with Rogue Squadron. He would fly on-and-off with the squadron up until the Yuuzhan Vong War, where he accepted a post to serve with General Antilles' military council. After the war had ended, Ace couldn't bring himself to retire despite being one of the older active officers in the military ranks. He began teaching aboard the Nebulon-B2 escort frigate _Senesca_, a starfighter training vessel for new military recruits.

"We may not be, but you sure are old man," Pash Cracken replied.

"Oh you A-Wing pilots, eternally youthful," Ace muttered

Like Major Azzameen, Pash Cracken had flown with Rogue Squadron on-and-off during the years. He had been one of the first pilots hand-selected by Wedge Antilles to be part of the reformed Rogue Squadron and had taken part in the unit's successful takeover of Coruscant. For the better part of two decades Pash bounced around from flying with Rogue Squadron to commanding his own A-Wing unit. When the Vong war broke out, then-General Antilles named him to be an acting General and was given command of the Interdictor class Star Destroyer _Memory of Ithor_. It was during his time in command of that vessel that Pash was nearly killed.

During _Operation Trinity_ above Bilbringi, the _Memory of Ithor_ sustained critical damage to it's drive core, forcing an evacuation of the ship. Pash and most of his command crew managed to escape but were captured by the Vong and taken to Coruscant in order to be sacrificed to the Vong gods. He narrowly escaped execution by organizing a guerilla war unit to inflict chaos and confusion as Second Battle of Coruscant began overhead.

"Ooryl believes that Major Cracken is merely trying to cover up his receding hairline by acting younger than he really is," Ooryl Qrygg quipped resulting in hearty laughter from most of the pilots in the conference room.

Ooryl was a Gand pilot who had served in Rogue Squadron longer than almost everyone in that conference room not named Inyri Forge-Janson or Wedge Antilles. Along with Pash Cracken, Ooryl had been one of the hand-selected pilots that were part of the first reformation of Rogue Squadron just prior to the Fall of Coruscant. For years he served as the wingman to fellow Rogue Corran Horn. Ooryl tended to keep to himself and wasn't the flashiest pilot ever to sit behind a Rogue Squadron X-Wing. Those who had flown with him regarded him as being perhaps the most brutally efficient Rogue in squadron history. His records showed an almost unbelievable three-to-one laser cannon fire to hit ratio. He didn't squeeze the trigger often, but when he did he almost always made contact with an enemy fighter.

Ooryl had finally retired midway through the Phantom Starfighter crisis several years after the Adumar situation. Inyri was somewhat surprised to see him here, for she hadn't heard much about him since he left active service. She had been under the impression that he had returned to Gand and was living contently with his family.

"We can discuss who's older than who later," Wedge interrupted. "Right now I'd like to bring all of you up to speed as to what is going on right now."

Wedge leaned into the podium at the front of the room as he continued to speak, "As I'm sure you're all aware, the Galactic Alliance is perilously short on starfighter pilots right now. It takes a long while to train and certify each pilot, and right now we're simply running without a buffer. The reason all of you are here is because Rogue Squadron doesn't have a large enough pool of pilots to select from. Now, I know I've dragged some of you away from your cushy desk jobs with the fleet and some of you I've even begged to come out of retirement…I just want you to know that this isn't a long-term situation we're in right now.

"As of now Rogue Squadron's commanding officer is looking for pilots to train and eventually succeed your posts here," Wedge explained. "All we're asking you to do is remain here long enough to fill an active roster spot while younger pilots are trained and assessed."

"So, you're saying we're warm bodies?" Inyri asked.

"I hate to put it that way, but yes," Wedge rubbed the back of his neck. "Normally I wouldn't ask you to put yourselves in this situation, but if we don't have an active-duty roster assembled in the next few weeks this unit will be decertified and the name will be given to another unit.

"Why the hell would High Command do that?" Pash asked. "I can't stand the thought of another squadron flying with our name."

"Morale, mostly," Ace said in turn. "Rogue Squadron is more than an elite starfighter squadron, especially in the eyes our government… It's a symbol of triumph, a beacon of hope as it were."

"In their eyes it's more important to have a Rogue Squadron to run parade formation rather than have a Rogue Squadron to fly dangerous assignments," Inyri added. "I'm not sure about the rest of you, but I'd rather this squadron be the best damn military unit instead of some marketing tool."

"My thoughts exactly," Wedge said. "So that's why you're here…I don't forsee any of you flying any overly dangerous assignments. In my mind I'm envisioning all of you acting as mentors and instructors for the new pilots."

"Have any of the new pilots been picked yet?" Ooryl asked.

"Not yet," Wedge admitted. "Right now the roster only consists of five pilots. The CO and XO are looking over the pilot registries right now and should have a batch of pilots here for interviews in the next few days. Lieutenant Lensi and Captain Nevil are still on the active roster. Cheriss ke Hanadi passed her basic flight exam and physical yesterday and was officially placed on the active depth chart."

"So with us we'll be up to nine out of twelve pilots needed," Pash noted.

"That's another problem right there," Wedge frowned. "High Command is trying to stack the deck against us. They want us to have sixteen pilots on active duty…we need to track down at least another seven pilots."

"Tall order," Ace thought aloud. "Forgive me for asking, General, but news doesn't get out to the _Senesca_ very quickly. Who's in command of this unit these days?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Jaina Solo," Wedge responded. "She'd be here right now but is busy filing interview requests with high command."

"Sithspit," Pash cursed. "I remember when she was still in diapers. Who's the executive officer?"

Wedge stammered for a moment as the door to the conference room slid open, "That would be me," a new voice said.

Inyri could swear she felt a cold draft plunge the temperature of the conference room down by several degrees. All of the sudden four sets of eyes were casting an icy glare at the newcomer. For Inryi, it had been well over a decade since she last saw him. The emerald green eyes that looked back at her were new, last she saw him he was wearing a set of electronic implants to aid his vision. Still, there was no mistaking him. He still had the same cold features, the same look of perpetual annoyance. He looked as smug and arrogant as ever.

"I'm… sure we all remember Dap Zorvan," Wedge said, attempting to break the tension in the room. "He recently left his assignment with the Jedi Council to accept a commission rank of Major."

"Thank you General," Darvix Zorvan replied, "but I think we can dispense with the pleasantries. I suspect these fine pilots have a few things they'd like to say to me."

"You're damn right we-" Pash started, only to be interrupted by Inyri

"You nearly got us all killed," Inyri spat. "Why the hell should I fly with you?"

"I don't have an answer for you," Darvix replied honestly. "All I can do is tell you that I'm sorry. Thirteen years ago I did something incredibly stupid and nearly got every one of us vaporized by the Imperial Remnant. I have no excuse for what I did, just explanations."

"Why you?" Inyri asked, standing to approach him. "You nearly kill us all then you vanish off the face of the Galaxy. You went off to play Jedi hero and when you got bored with that you disappeared. Where the hell were you when we needed you?"

Inyri could see the pain run across Darvix's face. During the Yuuzhan Vong War she had tried to help Wedge and Tycho find pilots. One of the men they had looked for was Darvix Zorvn, but when they tried to track him down they were told by Luke Skywalker that he had been killed several years earlier. Now here he was, alive and well serving as her new executive officer.

"Sometime later I'll be more than happy to explain what happened to me," Darvix said "but right now I just…I need you to believe that I've got your best interests in mind. I will never be able to apologize for what I did thirteen years ago and for not being here when I was needed the most. It's that," Darvix shook his head, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just need for you to give me a chance. Let me try to set things right. I can help this squadron and the new pilots we'll bring in because I can teach…It's the only thing I've ever been good at, but I need your help. I need your blessing to make this work."

Inyri had only seen Darvix act this sincere a handful of times while she had flown alongside him. Perhaps that's why everyone was so surprised when she brought her arm back to lay a punch squarely across his jaw, causing him to stumble backwards and fall to the ground.

"Sorry, Dap," Inyri said. "Every one of us here probably wanted to do that to you, I was just getting it out of the way," she offered Darvix her hand, "Promise me this: you're not going to let us down again."

Darvix looked up at her for a moment, taking his hand away from his jaw to place it in her own hand, "You know I can't promise that…but I can promise you I will make every effort to live up to your expectations."

"I suppose that will have to suffice," Inyri said as she helped Darvix back to his feet. "We're all going to be keeping our eyes on you. Don't disappoint us."

"Yes, ma'am," Darvix replied. "You know, Inyri, I'd say you hit like a girl but I haven't been decked that hard since I was in the Academy."

"Shut up, Dap."

"Yes, ma'am."


	11. Chain of Command

**Chapter Nine – Chain of Command**

"So tell me Lieutenant," Jaina sized up the pilot candidate sitting in front of her desk, "why do you want to fly with Rogue Squadron?"

The pilot shrugged his shoulders, "Honestly I want nothing to do with this cursed unit. Your XO told me there was free lunch involved if I sat here and indulged you for a half hour."

Jaina cast a glare at Darvix who happened to be seated beside her, "I think that will be all, Lieutenant. I'll go ahead and let your shuttle know that you're on your way."

"But what about my-"

"You're dismissed, Lieutenant," Jaina said firmly.

As the pilot candidate left her office, Jaina buried her face in her hands. She had already been through fifteen interviews that morning and had come away with only two marginal candidates to submit to simulation trials. The rest had been either disinterested with the thought of flying with Rogue or possessed a disciplinary sheet that would make the members of the notoriously wild Wraith Squadron blush. This search wasn't going well and she was starting to run out of time.

"Who do we have next?" Jaina sat upright and rubbed the back of her neck. "So help me Zorvan, if you bribed this candidate as well I'm going to have you peeling tubers for a month."

Darvix smiled and picked up the datapad in front of him to scan over the list of names, "Looks like our next candidate is Flight Officer Haruko Skobra, human female from Coruscant."

"Send her in," Jaina said as she prepared another sheet of flimsy to take notes.

Haruko Skobra was a fairly young pilot and clearly wasn't afraid to flaunt that fact. Her dress uniform appeared to be one size too small Her dossier indicated that she was in her early twenties, born around the same time Jaina had been. Graduated from the starfighter academy a little over a year ago. What caught Jaina's eye was Skobra's transfer records. She had been assigned to seven units in less than a year.

"Have a seat Flight Officer," Darvix said, not bothering to glance up from his datapd. "Let's get to the crux of your personnel file. I see you've been cited for theft, forgery, impersonating a superior officer, impersonating a government official, impersonating a military police officer, impersonating a media personality… and impersonating a stripper."

"You know the punishment for impersonating a stripper is significantly more lax than being nabbed as a real stripper," Haruko replied with a tight smile.

"She has a point, you know," Darvix said, casting a sideways glance at Jaina. "Tell me, Miss Skobra…Why do I want a con artist flying in Rogue Squadron?"

"Because you're strapped for pilots and my flight numbers makes me the best pilot on your list," Haurko said flatly.

"You're insubordinate, a criminal, and arrogant to boot," Jaina shook her head. "I've heard enough. Are you done with her, Major?"

"I think so," Darvix leaned over the desk to scrawl a note on a sheet of flimsy and handed it to Haruko, "Your scheduled simulation time will be tomorrow at Oh-eight-twenty. You'll be flying wing support with Major Forge-Janson and Major Azzameen. Dismissed, Flight Officer."

Jaina shot Darvix an angry look as Haruko Skobra walked out of her office. He was doing it again, acting over her head and subverting her command. It was his list of pilots, it was his decision who got to stay for another round and who would be sent home. It was becoming increasingly clear that Darvix Zorvan either had no respect for authority or had no idea where his own scope of power ended. It was probably both.

"She's going to be in a brig cell within two months," Jaina snapped at Darvix. "Why are we even bothering to put her through simulation trials?"

"Because Flight Officer Skobra is right," Darvix said. "She is the best candidate on our list according to Isolated Pilot Efficiency. Every metric points to her being an above-average pilot."

"You said it yourself, she's a con-artist!" Jaina said exasperatedly.

"In limited service time she's logged ten kills and recorded fifteen assists," Darvix glanced over his datapad. "Already she's a two-time ace and is one of the few pilots we're looking at who have logged actual hours with an active-duty unit. Her IPE is well above fleet-average."

"We both know she's going to get court-martialed for something before she even sits behind a flightstick," Jaina said. "She's a distraction."

"She'll be fine as long as she's put in her place early," Darvix absently scrolled through his datapad, not bothering to look at Jaina. "Besides, she won't be able to con a thing out of us. I'm twice the con-artist she'll ever be."

"Excuse me, Major?"

"How else do you explain my brief stints as a Jedi Master and two tour-of-duties with Rogue Squadron despite being a convicted felon on a half-dozen worlds?" Darvix flashed the cocky smile that Jaina was quickly learning to despise. "I conned my way out of Imperial controlled territory, conned my way into the Starfighter Academy, conned my way into Rogue Squadron…Although some have theorized that it's my wit and charm that got me to where I am."

"You're about as charming as a Hutt in labor," Jaina said. "Truth be told, I'd rather take a pilot who's less qualified and less of a disciplinary risk."

"If that's how you feel, you're a fool Colonel," Darvix replied.

"Oh do explain, Mr. Zorvan," Jaina folded her arms across her chest.

"Do you really think it was Admiral Darklighter's idea to force a two-week time limit on us filling out this unit?" Darvix asked. "Why would he do that? He's the most loyal Rogue Squadron supporters in the fleet. This pressure is coming from someone above him."

"What are you trying to say?" Jaina asked. "Someone's out to get us?"

"Damn right that's what I'm trying to say," Darvix said. "You don't threaten to dismantle Rogue Squadron so flippantly. This unit has been the backbone of our military since the Battle of Yavin… No, the only reason we're facing this deadline is because someone very high up wants us to fail."

"Why would anyone want that to happen?" Jaina shook her head, unable to believe a word coming out of Darvix's mouth.

"I don't know," Darvix admitted. "I don't know who is putting the pressure on us and I don't know why that person is putting the pressure on us. All I know is that someone is stacking the odds against us. I don't know about you, Colonel, but that makes me a bit upset. I'm not going to let that happen without a fight, and that means that right now we need to fill our roster with the best pilots available."

"Talent trumps chemistry," Jaina said.

"As of now talent trumps everything," Darvix explained. "Talent trumps discipline, talent trumps leadership, talent trumps roles. We don't have the luxury of being picky. We have to look through the available talent pool and select the best fliers of the group. Let's worry about the intangibles later."

Jaina heaved a sigh, "Someone's out to get us, huh? That's why we have to ignore the important things."

"Nothing is more important than talent," Darvix said. "You assemble a group of talented pilots and they're all linked by one thing: the desire to succeed. They will learn to fight as a single unit if that desire is strong enough. If it isn't they wash out and there's no reason to feel even the slightest bit of remorse."

"You're awfully jaded, Mr. Zorvan," Jaina locked her eyes on his. "I'd hate to find out just what made you so cynical."

Darvix glanced at Jaina for a moment before standing, "That's our last interview for a while. I'll meet you back here at 1400 hours."

***

* * *

"You have a minute, Uncle Wes?" Jaina asked as she sat at the opposite end of the mess halltable.

"For you, always," Wes Janson replied. "Now what would you like to talk about? My heroic adventures on Hoth? My date with death at Endor? How I conquered the blastsword duels of Adumar?"

Jaina chuckled and found a smile tugging at her lips. Major Wes Janson (retired as he liked to remind people) had been one of Rogue Squadron's longest serving members and had the distinction of being one of the pilots Luke Skywalker had hand-picked for the original unit. Wes had established himself as a Y-Wing pilot with the Tierfon Yellow Aces just prior to the Battle of Yavin. Shortly after the events over Yavin IV, Wes was selected to fly with Rogue Squadron. He would bounce between flying with the Rogues and teaching at the Starfighter Academy for the better part of two decades, retiring after the conclusion of the Galactic Civil War. By that point, he had become one of the all-time New Republic leaders in kills, assists, flight time, and missions flown.

"Actually," Jaina said. "I was wondering if you could tell me a bit about my executive officer. Tycho and Wedge said you or Uncle Hobbie would have more answers than they would."

Wes sobered for a moment, "I heard old Dap Zorvan was assigned to be your executive officer. Not exactly the easiest of personalities to get along with."

"What can you tell me about him?" Jaina asked.

"What would you like to know?" Wes took a sip from his mug of caf.

"How does he rank as a pilot?"

Wes set the mug down, "In terms of raw skill with a flightstick and trigger he's average, always has been. He probably could have been a more exceptional pilot if he was a bit more selfish. He was much more of a support pilot, racking up a lot of assists while flying as a wing-pair. Dap always liked to say that he modeled his flying style after Zev Senesca, which is a rather apt comparison. We used to fight over who would get Zev as their wingman. Always knew we could trust him to keep an eye out for us.

"What set Dap apart," Wes continued, "was his ability to literally think on the fly. If you could see some holorecordings of the cockpit camera mounted in his simulator, you could always see his eyes darting over the instrumentation and flight computer readouts. Out of necessity, mostly. Back then he was considered to be one of the blindest pilots ever to roll through the Academy."

"Poor ability to scan the field ahead of him?" Jaina asked.

"No, literally blind," Wes grinned. "Apparently when he was a kid, Dap contracted a virus that destroyed his optic nerves. Dap was one of the few pilots to make it through the Academy while using optical cybernetic implants. This presented him with a few problems. The first was that the visible range he could see with those implants was a fair amount shorter than what you and I can see. The second issue was that when things got a little too crazy in front of his cockpit window the implants would start to get laggy and feed him data a split-second too late."

"Sounds like that should have been the kiss of death to his career," Jaina raised a brow.

"By all rights it should have been," Wes admitted. "he got around that by changing his flying style to something rather unique. Whereas most pilots spend ninety percent of their time watching the field in front of them, Dap would have his eyes buried in his targeting and telemetry computer screens. He'd look up as needed, but his eyes were locked on those screens."

"Doesn't seem like that would provide much of a benefit," Jaina said. "I know I couldn't process the information the telemetry computer spits out very quickly."

"Dap's somewhat of an odd case," Wes explained. "He's a number-cruncher who happens to be adequate with a flight stick. He lived to analyze numbers and data, spent all of his free time trying to solve various puzzles and riddles. Dap used to have this little routine before flying. He'd sit down with a sheet of flimsy with a dozen or so mathematical equations written down. Before entering the cockpit he'd run through each one to perform a proof on it.

"In any case," Wes rubbed the back of his neck, "he'd always be thinking two or three maneuvers ahead as he looked at the data in front of him. Dap had this strange ability to micro-manage his wingman and put him into the best position to take on an oncoming threat. All the while Dap would ride alongside that pilot's wing, glancing up every now and then to make sure the space around them was clear."

Jaina nodded, "Sounds like he's a fairly smart pilot."

"What he doesn't have in terms of raw ability he makes up for by being a tactician," Wes said. "Although to be honest, he probably should have become a freelance astrogation specialist. That's where the big money is…Now, I'm guessing this isn't what you had in mind when you came to ask me about Dap, is it?"

Jaina smiled faintly as Wes continued, "Dap has always been a misanthropic jerk who seems to have no respect for anyone but himself. If he's being hard on you, try not to take it personally. Just remember you out-rank him. As strange as it is to believe, he will never directly violate one of your orders. He'll try to force you to see things his way, but he won't ignore you if you say no."

"That doesn't sound like him at all," Jaina said flatly.

"There's only one thing that trumps his misanthropy," Wes folded his arms across the table. "When he develops loyalty towards something, it is a fierce loyalty. Years ago he developed that relationship with Wedge. Dap will never admit it, but he will do anything that Wedge asks. That's where you're lucky."

"How so?"

"You were hand-picked by Gavin Darklighter and Wedge Antilles to command Rogue Squadron," Wes explained, "two of the few men who Darvix truly respects. In the case of Wedge, Dap's respect for him became unquestioned loyalty. When Wedge asked him to serve as the executive officer under your command, you had better believe that loyalty came along for the ride.

"He may question your decisions," Wes continued, "he may verbally berate you like he does everyone else, but in the end you are Rogue Squadron's commanding officer. Even that bastard respects that. If you give him an order he will carry it out with his last dieing breath."

The two were silent for a long while before Jaina spoke up, "Thanks, Uncle Wes."

"Anytime, kid," Wes smiled. "…He's a good pilot, Jaina. He really is. From everything I hear he's done a lot of growing up over the last ten years."

"I suppose I'll find out soon, huh?"

"Wedge always entertained thoughts of bringing Dap back," Wes said. "Called him a potential 'reclamation project,' a medium-risk/high reward kind of pilot. Give him some freedom to be creative, but don't be afraid to reign him in if he gets out of control."

Jaina stood and smiled, walking to the other side of the table to place a quick kiss on Wes's cheek, "I'll keep that in mind."

"If he really gets out of hand," Wes said. "Let me know and Hobbie and I'll go rig a condiment bomb in his quarters."

"I appreciate that, Uncle Wes."

"Anything for you, kid."

***

* * *

Jaina was waiting for Darvix in front of the door to her office when he finally arrived. She was somewhat surprised to see that he was right on time for a change instead of half-an-hour late as he usually was. She couldn't help but notice that Darvix still appeared to be rather tired. She wondered if beneath that outward appearance of nonchalant indifference, he was really feeling a good deal of stress over finding new pilots.

"A moment of your time, Major?"

Darvix raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

"You're not going to approve anymore pilots without getting a go-ahead from me," Jaina said. "Is that understood?"

Darvix looked at her for a moment before responding, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good," Jaina smiled. "Let's go find our pilots, shall we?"


	12. No Way Out

_Author Note: A few days ago I made a mistake and forgot to upload chapter seven. I've gone back and fixed that, so if you want to read that chapter (and I suggest you do because there were some important plot elements that occurred) select "Undervalued Talent" and enjoy! _

**Chapter Ten – No Way Out**

"I just checked in with the simulation chamber," Darvix said. "Looks like we're still on to start our examination trials at 1000 hours."

Jaina tucked her datapad under her arm as she depressed the switch to open the door to her office, "Good. Did you issue the assignment orders to the rest of the squadron?"

"Sent out this morning," Darvix said. "Everyone is slated for three simulator runs, though that number could increase if this last batch of interviews yields any new candidates."

"Speaking of candidates," Jaina said as she strode towards the chair behind her desk, "there's another name I'd like to add to the list."

Darvix took a seat beside her, "Who might that be?"

"Kasari Lisae," Jaina set her datapad in front of Darvix. "My uncle tipped me off. Apparently she was an associate of yours while you were with the Jedi Academy?"

"Absolutely not!" Darvix spat.

Jaina raised a brow. She had seen Darvix upset before, but nothing quite this fiery, "I was under the impression that she had undergone basic snubfighter training as part of her Academy cross-training. Uncle Luke told me you were the one that taught her how to fly."

"All I've taught her is basic flight control and dogfighting," Darvix explained. "She has logged less than one-hundred hours in a simulator and even less time in an actual X-Wing."

"It couldn't possibly hurt to bring her in for an interview and run her through a simulation or two," Jaina shot back. "This isn't your call, Zorvan. If she wants to accept this offer it's well within her rights to do so."

"I'm not going to-"

"No, you listen to me Major," Jaina interrupted Darvix. "This is a lesson you've got to learn now or you're going to wash out: you can't protect your subordinates forever. Every one of us signed up for this knowing the inherent risk of being a military pilot."

"She's not ready for this!" Darvix threw his hands in the air. "She has no idea how dangerous our line of work is."

"She followed you to the ends of the Galaxy," Jaina replied. "Spent ten years with you, the man widely regarded as being the most reckless Jedi the Academy had to offer. I know what you did and where your assignments took you, Major. If Kasari was present for even half of your escapades, she knows exactly what danger is."

Darvix sat quiet as Jaina continued, "You used to pound this into our heads while we were at the Academy on Yavin. You'd always say 'we coddle you children too much. You need to experience the Galaxy for what it is.' Don't recant on that now, Mr. Zorvan. Your apprentice has earned the right to make her own decisions."

"Now," Jaina smiled, "Let's meet our first candidate of the day."

Jaina depressed a key on her desk, causing the door to her office to slide open. She watched in dull horror as a human male came sprinting towards her, jumping into the air and landing atop her desk. Jaina glanced over at Darvix as the man laid down on his side, his head propped up on his hand. He had the look of a lunatic. Unkempt hair, wrinkled uniform, and a certain manic glee in his eyes.

"You know this bed is really uncomfortable," the man said. "Who do I complain to about the service here? Would that be you? Actually, what the hell are you doing in my hotel room? GET OUT!"

"According to his file," Jaina said, ignoring the deranged man in front of her, "this is Flight Officer Ryann Anthek, formerly of the A-Wing unit Blue Squadron."

"Formerly?" Darvix asked as he swatted the man's hands away from his face.

"Six months ago he was committed to the Veteran's Hospital on Corellia as an in-patient," Jaina explained. "Several remarks about his mental stability or lack thereof on his file. Apparently he was discharged last week."

"Discharged or escaped?" Darvix wondered aloud.

"Where's my complementary pillow mint?" Ryann demanded. "Forget that, where's my pillow!? I WANT A PILLOW! I WANT A PILLOW!"

"Should we assign him to a simulation slot?" Darvix asked half-heartedly.

"Why not?" Jaina shrugged. "I could use some amusement."

***

* * *

Darvix rubbed the back of his neck as he stared at the simulator programming console. Just what should he subject the new pilots to? A straight-ahead dogfight would be too simple, he wanted them to face something a little more practical. An escort mission perhaps? No, that would be too monotonous. Strict bomber assault? Not for an X-Wing unit. Reconnaissance mission? That probably should be in the hands of an A-Wing squadron. These simulator runs were so much easier when someone else was setting them up for Darvix to fly.

"You look cute when you're stressed" a pair of arms wrapped around Darvix from behind, a chin came to rest on his shoulder.

"That implies there are times I don't look cute," Darvix grinned and placed a hand over Cheriss'. "Shouldn't you be getting into your flight gear? You're on the second sim run."

"Is that an order, Major?" Cheriss asked.

"I'll save wardrobe orders for later tonight," Darvix replied. "Right now I've got to figure out what I'm going to subject the greenhorns to."

"I'm sure you'll come up with something," Cheriss said.

Darvix spun around in his seat and stood up, "Have you ever felt you've bitten off more than you can chew?"

"Well, I agreed to marry you," Cheriss mused.

"I'm being serious, Cheriss," Darvix heaved a sigh. "I was never that much of a pilot. What am I doing serving as second-in-command of Rogue Squadron?"

Cheriss looked at Darvix for a moment before she reached into the breast pocket of her shirt, retrieving and opening a small carton, "Mini cigarra?"

"I didn't know you smoked," Darvix said as he pulled the small tabac filled paper from the carton.

"Pilots had to do a lot of different things to cope during the Vong war," Cheriss explained. "Some washed their fears and sorrows away with the bottle, some turned to designer drugs and spices. Me? Carababa tabac mini cigarras."

Darvix nodded as Cheriss lit his mini cigarra with the micro torch she kept in her pocket. He closed his eyes as he inhaled, letting the smoke of the mini cigarra fill his lungs before breathing out, "I'm in over my head, Cheriss."

"You're only overwhelmed because you think you're not cut out for the job," Cheriss said as she brought her own cigarra to her lips. "I'm sure you've already had a half-dozen people tell you this, but if General Antilles thought you weren't prepared for this, he wouldn't have asked you."

"If you ask me, I'd say General Antilles made the wrong decision," Darvix replied as he leaned against the simulator console. "Every time I get a moment to think, I come back to the same thing. Colonel Solo and I are going to be responsible for a squadron of twelve pilots, with a good chunk of those pilots being inexperienced rookies. The thought of watching over their training and development scares the Force out of me."

"Have you talked to anyone about your concerns?"

"No," Darvix admitted. "The squadron is already stressed out enough as is. The last thing they need to know is that their executive officer has the jitters."

"There are two former Rogue commanding officers and three retired Rogue pilots on board this vessel," Cheriss said. "Has it dawned on you that they might have some insight to help you deal with how you're feeling?"

Cheriss smiled at him, "Relax, Darvix. Right now you're just preparing an evaluation sim. Have some fun with it. Get creative. Find your swagger again. You had it once about ten years ago, I imagine it's still somewhere inside you."

With that Cheriss left the room, leaving Darvix alone with his thoughts. As he sat in front of the console once more, he tucked the mini cigarra into the corner of his mouth, exhaling a puff of smoke as he began to program the mission parameters into the simulator.

***

* * *

Inyri flexed her hand around the flightstick and adjusted the throttle to two-thirds forward output. It had been nearly a year since she had last sat behind the controls of an X-Wing, even if it was just a simulator mockup. She knew she should be feeling the effects of taking so much time off, but truth be told, she felt as comfortable controlling a snubfighter as she ever had before. As she peered off into the simulated blackness of space, a smile crept onto her lips.

This felt good.

She glanced just off her portside strike foils, catching a glimpse of an X-Wing piloted by a greenhorn she knew only as Flight Officer Zess. To her starboard was Flight Officer Lilea Tromans. She had heard some idle chatter prior to entering the simulator that Tromans had been serving as a requisitions officer aboard the _Ackbar_. Apparently she had only barely graduated from the Academy and no unit was willing to take a flier on her.

"Inyri, Ooryl, do you read?" Colonel Solo's voice came in over the intercom.

"Two acknowledges," Ooryl responded.

"Four here," Inyri replied. "What can I do for you, Colonel?"

"We're on a private channel right no so the rookies can't listen in," Jaina explained. "Major Zorvan has selected the simulation exercise and we just wanted to clue you in to the mission parameters. Keep in mind, we don't want you to divulge the objectives to the greenhorns. All we want out of you two is to fly support and offer general advice without giving too much away."

"Understood, Colonel," Inyri glanced down at her forward sensor readouts. "Care to tell us what to expect, Dap?"

Darvix's voice filled her helmet-mounted speakers, "We're running an old favorite, Dreadnaught Defection. In about four minutes you're going to see a Dreadnaught cruiser drop out of hyperspace with Imperial identification tags-"

"A Galactic Empire starship?" Inyri asked. "How nostalgic of you, Zorvan."

"I'm a sucker for those old Face Loran propaganda holos," Darvix quipped. "Be advised, you have about one minute to get a handle on the situation before an Interdictor cruiser drops out of hyperspace. Prepare to engage two TIE-Interceptor wings and one TIE-Bomber wing."

"This is hardly a fair assessment for the greenhorns, Zorvan," Inyri noted as she glanced up at the canopy-mounted chronometer.

"This is the same simulation General Antilles used as a gauge to clear me for active duty," Darvix responded, a hint of agitation in his voice.

"He used this exercise to try and drum you out of Rogue Squadron," Inyri shook her head. "If I recall correctly, you should have been vaped about two minutes into the exercise but lucked your way into flying clear of an Interceptor wing."

"What's that, Janson?" Darvix asked. "You're breaking up."

"This isn't a sub-space radio, it's patched into the _Mon Mothma's_ intercom," Inyri frowned. "Have you given the go-ahead for this exercise, Colonel Solo?"

"The parameters look good to me," Jaina replied. "I want to see if one of those greenhorns can come up with a creative solution."

"I'd be surprised if those greenhorns even figure out what's going on," Inyri sighed. "If they're as sloppy as their flight formations seem to indicate, this could be over in a hurry."

"Let's kill the chatter," Darvix interrupted. "Twenty seconds until the Dreadnaught drops out of hyperspace."

At that moment, Flight Officer Tromans came in over the radio, "Red flight, this is Red One. I'm picking up a fairly sizable object on my forward scanners."

"Confirmed," Flight Officer Zess replied. "Looks to be a medium sized vessel. Nebulon-B Frigate, perhaps."

"Detecting an object entering real-space," Ooryl said. "Scanners indicate it is a Dreadnaught cruiser."

Inyri began to power up her weapons and shields systems, "Identification on the vessel?"

"It's not transmitting a name, but is identifying itself as a Galactic Empire ship," Flight Officer Tromans said. "That's odd, perhaps it's supposed to be an Imperial Remnant ship?"

"We need some sort of indicator of whether it's friend or foe," Inyri said. "Let's get something to work with here."

"The Dreadnaught is bringing up shields and arming weapons systems," Zess noted. "Looks pretty hostile to me. Locking S-Foils in attack position, preparing to engage."

"Hold on," Tromans said. "Something isn't right here. That cruiser is making no attempts to alter course to come at us. I'm going to hail the ship and-"

"New reading on advanced sensors," Ooryl interrupted. "Looks to be a much larger vessel, Star Destroyer size. Estimated reversion to real-space is twenty seconds."

Inyri pushed the lever to lock her strike-foils in the X attack position. Things were about to get rough in a hurry. A few hundred cliks to the aft of the dreadnaught, a new ship appeared into real-space: an Imperial Interdictor cruiser. During the height of the Rebellion, Interdictors would strike fear into any unfortunate Rebel vessel that crossed its path. Armed with a full compliment of TIE fighters and enormous gravity-well generators, any ship that was caught in its wake was trapped and as good as destroyed.

The only way to get past it was to destroy it.

"Sithspit, this is bad," Zess cursed. "Four starfighters against an Interdictor and a Dreadnaught? These are impossible odds."

"Shut up, Three," Inyri responded. "Red One, what's the status of the Dreadnaught?"

"No response from the Dreadnaught, but it appears that they're trying to increase the gap between themselves and the Interdictor."

"Would someone care to tell me what the hell is going on here?" Inyri said, trying her best to act surprised and confused.

"I think I've got a theory," Tromans said. "That Interdictor is launching TIE-Bombers and two flights of TIE-Interceptors."

"Why would they send out a wing of Bombers?" Zess asked. "They don't stand a chance against a flight of X-Wings."

"You send out a Bomber wing to get rid of something big in a hurry," Tromans explained. "I think their target is that Dreadnaught. We have a defection scenario on our hands."

"Red One, this is Red Four," Inyri nudged her throttle to full. "I'm in agreement with that assessment. Recommend we make the TIE-Bombers our primary target, followed by that Interdictor."

"Two agrees," Ooryl replied. "Red One, Red flight is awaiting orders."

Without missing a beat, Flight Officer Tromans took charge. "Four, you're on my wing. Two and Three, prepare to engage the Bombers. We'll hold the Interceptors off your back."

"This is insane," Zess said. "We're going to get blown to pieces."

"Force help me, Zess," Inyri spat, "if you don't cut the chatter I'm going to shove a thermal detonator so far up your entrails you won't know what hit you. One, this is Four. I'm on your wing."

Inyri pealed off and formed up on Tromans' X-Wing. Moments later, the sight of eight TIE-Interceptors filled her viewscreen. Quickly, she shunted all of her deflector shield strength forward. Without hesitating she depressed the trigger three times, sending a flurry of red laser cannon fire into the cloud of enemy starfighters. Inyri grinned as one red bolt struck the center of one interceptor, setting it ablaze. She flew threw the explosion, pulling back on the flightstick to circle around.

Inyri looked up and saw Flight Officer Tromans firing at a lone interceptor, "One, this is Four. Ease up on your flightstick corrections and just worry about getting your targeting reticule ahead of that Squint. This isn't an asteroid field, your movements should be smooth right now."

Seconds later, Tromans landed a dual-linked shot square on the Interceptor's hull, "Thanks, Four."

"That's all you, One," Inyri replied with a smile. "Good hunting."

"Red One, Red Four, this is Two," Ooryl said. "Two has a Squint on his six. Need an assist."

"I'm on it, Two," Inyri said, throwing her flightstick to the right and bringing Ooryl's X-Wing within her sights. Switching her cannon fire to dual-link, Inyri targeted the TIE-Interceptor on Ooryl's tail and lined up her targeting reticule. She gritted her teeth as the targeting computer worked on a firing solution. The moment the reticule flashed green, Inyri squeezed off two quick shots, reducing the Squint into a ball of flame and durasteel shrapnel.

"Thanks, Four," Ooryl said.

"Buy me a drink later and we'll call it even," Inyri pulled back on her flightstick and glanced at her scanners. The TIE-Bomber wing was gone. "Bomber wing is gone, status report."

"One at eighty percent shields," Tromans replied. "Two kills and breaking of attack to set up a run on the Interdictor."

"Two is at twenty percent shields," Ooryl said. "Damage to top-starboard thruster, Two at seventy-five percent forward thrust."

"Three is at ninety-five percent shields," Zess reported. "Three Bomber kills and one Interceptor kill. Setting up for attack run."

"Acknowledged," Inyri said as she pulled the Interdictor into her sights. "Awaiting orders, Red One."

"We've only got one chance that this," One said. "Shunt laser cannon power to shields and arm proton torpedoes. Approach within two cliks and deploy all available ordinance."

"One, I'm not sure if that's a good idea," Inyri said. "One hit from those turbo lasers and we're done for."

"I don't see another option here, do you?" Tromans asked.

Inyri held her tongue, "No, One. Forming up on your wing."

This wasn't going to work and Inyri knew it. Sure enough, within ten cliks turbo laser fire had eliminated Ooryl and Zess' X-Wings. Moments later, Flight Officer Tromans' X-Wing was blown apart. Before Inyri could pull away, a large green bolt pierced her canopy.

Suddenly her viewscreen filled with red, letting her know that her simulated X-Wing had been destroyed.

***

* * *

"Well, that didn't end well," Jaina said as she took a sip from her mug of caf.

"No, but I'm fairly impressed with what I saw," Darvix said. "Up until the end, Zess and Tromans were showing some very cerebral flying."

"I'll agree with that," Jaina nodded. "Zess downed four fighters and it appeared that Tromans had a fairly good grasp on the situation. If we can improve her flightstick control, I think we'll have something with her. The results may not have been there, but the process was."

"All of the skills needed are present with both pilots," Darvix said. "A bit of fine-tuning and experience is all they need. I didn't expect either of them to figure out how to dispatch that Interdictor."

"Having run this simulation a few times myself, I know there are only two ways out," Jaina said. "Fire all of your torpedoes from a distance and hope enough of them get through the turbo lasers to cripple the shield generators, or use a dummy target to fly them in for you at a closer range."

"Neither of which are easy solutions to see in the heat of combat," Darvix said. "I don't know about you, Colonel, but I think those two are keepers."

"I'll sign off on that," Jaina said. "We just might be able to put a squadron together after all."


	13. Your Own Medicine

**Chapter Eleven - Your Own Medicine**

Darvix tapped his fingers against his leg as he listened to Admiral Darklighter drone on about various intelligence reports coming out of a star system no one really cared about. There were so many things he would rather be doing, such as slamming a locker door onto his head. Even getting sucked into a hard vacuum seemed more appealing than this executive intelligence briefing. Listening to Colonel Solo complain about her self-inflicted love life issues would be preferable.

Well, let's not get too carried away.

Normally Colonel Solo would be attending these meetings while Darvix either slept off a hangover or hid himself away in the recreation room. Unfortunately for Darvix, Jaina had chosen to send him in her place while she briefed the new members of Rogue Squadron. How he envied Jaina. He could be making fun of Flight Officer Zess' pretty-boy blonde locks or Tromans' spastic flightstick hand.

I bet Solo is being nice to those Greenhorns. What a shame.

"Mr. Zorvan?" Admiral Darklighter said, awakening Darvix from his thoughts.

Darvix looked up from the table top, "Yes, sir?"

"Would you care to report?" The Admiral crossed his arms over his chest.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Your squadron's status report, Major," Darklighter frowned.

"Ah, right," Darvix smiled faintly to try and hide his embarrassment. "As of…0700 this morning, Colonel Solo and myself finalized the transfers of seven greenhorn pilots. Along with the nine veterans already present on the roster, we currently stand at sixteen field-ready pilots…Rogue Squadron is now awaiting reclassification to active duty and is ready for operation orders."

Darvix could feel the surprise of every member in that briefing room. Just a few weeks ago there were only three combat-certified pilots assigned to Rogue Squadron. When the two-week ultimatum to fill out the squadron's roster was given, no one in their right mind would have thought it possible for Colonel Solo to properly staff the unit in time. Darvix could see on every officer's face that they were skeptical.

"With all due respect, Major," an officer at the far end of the table said, "I'm looking over the greenhorn pilots on your list and it looks like you've cut some corners."

Darvix narrowed his eyes as he glared at the officer, a young man who couldn't possibly be any older than twenty-five standard years. Based upon the man's somewhat pale complexion, Imperial accent, and all-too smug aura, Darvix figured he was from Coruscant. A shame he hadn't been terraformed into the planet's surface when the Vong took over.

"Would you care to explain what you mean, Commander…"

"Commander Greys, CO of Gold Squadron," Greys responded. "All I'm saying, Major, is that I've looked at just about every one of these pilots over the last few months and came to the same conclusion with each of them: they are all unfit to fly."

"Commander I assure you that Colonel Solo and myself subjected every one of these pilots through a rigorous selection process," Darvix said as he fought back the urge to poke fun at the Commander's physique. "I have the utmost confidence in-"

"The utmost confidence?" The commander asked. "My, that's quite amusing Major. Aren't you Darvix Zorvan, the pilot that nearly doomed your entire unit to destruction with nothing more than his own comical ineptitude? I hear after the confrontation at Iattu IV, you were so embarrassed you begged Luke Skywalker to take you in. There are even rumors flying around that you screwed up so badly as a Jedi you decided to play dead for six years so no one could find you."

"What happened during those six years is classified information privy only to the Jedi Academy," Darvix clenched his fists under the table, trying to refrain from calling upon the Force to give Commander Grey the worst beating of his life. "I promise you this, Greys. In one month I will have more applicants trying to get into Rogue Squadron than you will have in a year. My pilots will be the best the fleet has to offer, and every other pilot in the Galactic Alliance is going to dream of flying with them."

Admiral Darklighter slammed his fists down on the table top, "Are you two children done?"

Darvix nodded and stared down at the table top once more as the Admiral continued to speak, "Rogue Squadron is hereby reclassified as an active unit. Expect your orders within the next twenty-four hours. The rest of you are to continue with your assignments. Dismissed...except for you, Mr. Zorvan."

Darvix sighed as the other officers left the briefing room, "Admiral if it's all the same, I need to head to the hanger to oversee the maintenance on our X-Wings."

"I thought I ordered you to take a series of psychological evaluations," the Darklighter said. "You have yet to go to a single one."

"I'm fine, Admiral."

"We'll let the psychiatrist evaluate that, Zorvan," Darklighter said. "Report to the medical wing immediately, is that understood Major?"

"Yes, sir," Darvix said as he flashed a half-hearted salute.

As Darvix left the briefing room and made his way towards the medical wing, he spotted Commander Grey conversing with a few other squadron COs. Smiling to himself, Darvix reached out with the Force and pulled Grey's legs from out under him, causing him to crash onto the floor below.

"You're mine, son," Darvix said under his breath as he walked past.

***

* * *

Kasari Lisae was beginning to wonder what she had gotten herself into as she tugged at the sleeves of her new off-duty jacket. She hadn't stopped to consider the offer Colonel Solo gave her only a few days earlier. Before she knew what was happening, Kasari had found herself strapped into a flight simulator and was squaring of against a very menacing Imperial Interdictor cruiser and several wings of TIE Fighters. She had held her own, but Kasari knew her performance hadn't been very impressive. After she left the simulation chamber that day, Kasari thought nothing more would come of her hasty decision to audition for Colonel Solo.

Two days later, she was sitting in the Rogue Squadron recreation room, wearing a jacket emblazoned with the Rogue Squadron crest. She was a full-fledged member of the most illustrious starfighter outfit in military history. Most people would find a certain sense of pride and joy in that fact, but Kasari wasn't quite sure how to feel. She had jumped head-first into this mess without thinking about the consequences. What should she expect? How much danger was she going to face?

The most troubling thing about this whirlwind of events occurred in Colonel Solo's office the day before. Jaina told Kasari that she had been accepted into the unit and proceeded to talk about the storied history of the squadron. All the while, Kasari couldn't take her eyes off of her new executive officer. Darvix had kept his arms folded across his chest during the entire meeting, his lips sealed tight. Kasari could tell that he didn't approve of her being in his squadron.

"Ground control to Flight Officer Lisae," the pilot who had just taken a seat across from her said. "Care to join us in reality?"

Kasari hadn't noticed that the large table she was sitting at was now surrounded by the two of the other rookie pilots that had just been accepted into Rogue Squadron. She remembered a few of the names, but for the most part each pilot was a complete stranger to her. Idly, Kasari wondered if Darvix had been as cold to them as he had been to her.

"Sorry," Kasari blushed a bit as she sat upright. "I was a bit lost in my thoughts… Flight Officer Skobra, correct?"

"Haruko will suffice," she replied with a smile. "Enough about me, though. I think all of us would like to know a little more about you."

"Rumor has it you and our executive officer left the Jedi Academy to fly with Rogue Squadron," another pilot Kasari recognized as Erim Zess said. "You must have had some good reason to give up something like that for a dead-end fighter unit like this."

"No real reason," Kasari was beginning to feel uncomfortable. "I just thought this would be a good experience for me."

"Your first and probably only squadron assignment is this dead-end unit," Haruko scoffed. "How could this possibly be a good thing for you?"

"Playing Jedi Peacemaker gets a little old after a while," Kasari offered a tight smile. "Sometimes it feels good to blow something up instead."

"I suppose," Haruko replied. "Some have been saying you're only here because of your relationship with the XO."

"Relationship?" Kasari laughed.

"Word travels fast around here," Zess said. "The entire unit knows that you spent ten years traveling alone with him."

"Major Zorvan was my mentor at the Academy," Kasari explained, folding her arms across her chest. "It was my duty to assist him in his assignments."

"You're telling me that after ten years of staring at his rear end you don't feel a thing for him?" Haruko asked. "There's something wrong with you, Lisae."

Kasari shook her head, "The Major and I had a professional working relationship. Nothing more, nothing less. Besides, I think he prefers cheap hookers."

"Is that unrequited love masquerading as hostility I'm sensing?" Erim asked.

"Sure sounds like it to me," Haruko nodded in agreement.

Kasari was beginning to feel that she had taken enough abuse from her fellow pilots, "Just why are you two so interested in me?"

"Well, we're not exactly interested in you," Haruko said. "We're more concerned about Major Zorvan."

"And you're trying to get me to spill information about him?" Kasari was quickly moving away from feeling annoyed to dismayed.

"Leverage is important, Hotlips," Erim said as he placed a hand over Kasari's, which she quickly withdrew away from him. "The good Major has a reputation of being a difficult man to please, and let's not forget he's one of the people who will determine all of our destinies as fighter pilots."

"Why don't you just fly well enough to avoid his scorn like any respectable pilot would?" Kasari replied.

"You don't get it, do you?" Haruko said. "We're a unit comprised of rejects that are running out of chances. Think of this as job security. If we're drummed out of the military, we have to go find work in the private sector where they expect results. One little screw-up is going to have both Solo and Zorvan itching to get us tossed out of this squadron."

Kasari finally stood up, "If you think that's what will cause Zorvan to chew your ass out, you've got another thing coming. The only thing you need to know from me is this: do your job and you're safe. Half-ass anything and he will make you regret your very existence."

***

* * *

"Have you been feeling more stressed than usual over the last few days, Major Zorvan?" the Twi'lek psychiatrist asked.

Darvix exhaled sharply and stared up at the ceiling, "More stressed? Well, I've spent the last two weeks trying to piece a squadron together out of replacement-level pilots, rejects, and head cases. Then there's the fact that I'm feeling socially awkward because I spent the last six years in a freighter beyond the fringes of the galaxy with nothing more than an astromech droid, a terminal nerd, and an attention starved Jedi Knight. Lately I've also been reminiscing about my younger days when I was living the dream of traveling the galaxy and shooting as much spice into my bloodstream as I wanted, wondering exactly when it was that I got old…"

"And of course, mommy never loved me and daddy never played shockball with me," Darvix fixed the psychiatrist with a cold stare. "Actually daddy tried to enroll me in the Imperial Military Academy, but that's neither here nor there."

"So," the psychiatrist replied, "you've been feeling a bit more stressed than usual lately?"

"What? No," Darvix feigned shock. "I've never felt better. My psyche is in pristine condition. Can I leave now?"

"Are you always this combative, Major?" The psychiatrist looked up from her datapad.

"My friends prefer to label me as 'feisty.'"

"I highly doubt you have any friends," the psychiatrist said bluntly. "Well, I take that back. You've got one friend, someone who manages to put up with all of the verbal abuse and mind games you play."

"That's nice, do my medical records mention Vik now?" Darvix flashed a smile.

"Is that what his name is?" the psychiatrist smiled in turn as genuine surprise appeared on Darvix's face. "Don't act so shocked, Major. You're not the only person who can profile someone just by having a quick conversation with them. You've been ignoring General Darklighter's orders to see me for weeks. Even after his ultimatum today you probably would have just skipped out again…except that someone talked you into showing up for a change. I figure that if someone is going to take the time to talk you, of all people, into doing something beneficial for yourself, that person must be able to deal with all of your anti-social flak."

"He wouldn't put up with me if I was as terrible as you're making me out to be," Darvix said flatly.

"He shouldn't put up with you, yet for some inexplicable reason he does," the psychiatrist noted. "I think that man deserves a medal, because you're the most misanthropic bastard ever to walk into my office."

"Are you trying to lead this conversation anywhere in particular, Doctor?" Darvix was growing increasingly agitated.

"Not really," the Twi'lek said. "I just think it's good for you to have your buttons pushed every now and then."

It took every fiber of Darvix's being to not verbally lash out at that moment, "Well now that you've pushed those buttons, would you mind clearing me for flying duties?"

"Not until you give me one reason why I should."

"This is absurd," Darvix said.

"It sure is, Mr. Zorvan," The psychiatrist was grinning now. "Now give me one reason that I find to be acceptable or I'm going to flag your medical record and recommend that you be admitted into military psychiatric care."

Darvix's jaw dropped, "You can't do that."

"Oh, but I can. Would you like to answer the question now?"

Darvix stared across the office at the psychiatrist, entertaining thoughts of verbally berating her before he finally spoke up, "I have six greenhorn pilots that are as raw as they come. Those six pilots need instruction to succeed and I assure you, Doctor, I am the best damn instructor available to them. You're going to clear me to fly because their futures as snubfighter pilots depends on it."

"Well, you're not short on confidence," the psychiatrist said, "or arrogance as it might be. Still, I find no reason to keep you any longer. You're free to go and you're clear to fly, now get out of my office before I decide to delve deeper into that traumatized brain of yours."

Darvix didn't need to be told that twice. He quickly walked out of her office, leaning against the door that closed behind him.

"How'd it go?" Vik Kelrune was standing right beside him. Darvix suspected he had been waiting outside of the office the entire time.

"My stay aboard a brig cell on an Imperial Remnant Star Destroyer was more pleasant," Darvix replied, casting a glare at Vik. "We're going to the bar, and you're buying me a drink."

"No," Vik said. "You haven't paid me back for the last six drinks I bought you."

"I just got through an interrogation session with that psychiatrist and earlier today I had to listen to General Darklighter drone on about some odd traffic in a sector no one cares about. I need a drink."

"You really enjoy taking advantage of me, don't you?" Vik cast a sideways glance at Darvix as they made their way to the bar. "I swear, we have the most screwed up social contract ever."

"And you wouldn't have it any other way," Darvix said. "I am completely and utterly honest with you at all times, and in exchange, you allow me to take advantage of your financial resources to buy intoxicating beverages."

"I guess that's what friends are for," Vik shook his head. "Anyways…thank you for seeing the psychiatrist."

"Yeah," Darvix replied. "Anything to get you to stop nagging."


	14. Back in the Flightseat

**Chapter Twelve – Back in the Flightseat**

Jaina frowned as she set her datapad onto her lap, "I don't get it. We're active for two days and we've already got a senator from some backwater system asking for our services."

"Name recognition," Darvix said as he tapped his fingers against Admiral Darklighter's vacant desk. "This senator probably has no idea Rogue Squadron is currently staffed by a bunch of veteran retreads and inexperienced rookies. He sees our squadron name and assumes that it can get him some free publicity for whatever agenda it is he's trying to push. Chances are we're just going to be flying parade escort for some diplomatic envoy."

"If that's the case, why are we about to have a closed-door meeting with Darklighter?" Jaina asked. "You don't get the highest figure in the military involved when all you're asking for is a parade escort."

"You know how politicians are," Darvix shrugged. "They need to put on a display. Someone higher up probably coerced Darklighter into getting involved."

Just then the door to Admiral Darklighter's office opened. The Admiral took a seat behind his desk, smiling at Jaina before casting a stern glare at Darvix. Right behind Admiral Darklighter was a man wearing a formal suit. He was an older, pudgy man who looked to fit into every politician stereotype. His balding head helped to betray his age.

"Allow me to introduce you to Rogue Squadron's senior officers," Admiral Darklighter said. "Lieutenant Colonel Jaina Solo and Major Darvix Zorvan. Colonel Solo is the unit's commanding officer and Major Zorvan is her second in command."

The Admiral gestured to the man standing beside him, "This is Adan Mentzer, senator from the Jaminere system."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Senator," Jaina said.

"I assure you, the pleasure is mine," the Senator replied. "Not everyone is lucky enough to meet a Rogue Squadron commanding officer. Even fewer get the chance to talk with the daughter of the great Leia Organa Solo."

"I assure you, Senator," Jaina said, "I'm just a fighter jockey."

_Your mother's gift for brown-nosing sure has rubbed off on you, Colonel,_ Darvix cast an amused glance at Jaina as he spoke to her through the Force.

_It's called tact, you should try it sometime,_ Jaina responded.

"How can we be of service to you, Senator?" Darvix asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Straight to the point, I like that in a man," The senator smiled. "I need a squadron to patrol the Jaminere system for a few weeks. We've noticed some rather illicit trading being conducted by smugglers and I have to be honest, our security forces just aren't up to the task to deal with them."

"What kind of illicit trading?" Jaina asked.

"Slave trading," Admiral Darklighter interjected, setting a pair of datapads in front of Jaina and Darvix. "We have reason to believe that human trafficking is taking place in the Jaminere system."

"What do you need us to do?" Darvix picked up the datapad in front of him.

"For now my people would like you to monitor ship traffic through the area," the senator said. "If you stumble across anything, you would be required to report it to the Jaminere security forces. We'll handle the rest."

"This seems like a fairly straightforward assignment," Darvix said.

"A straightforward assignment that Galactic Alliance Intelligence can handle with a few operatives and a shuttlecraft," Jaina said. "This hardly seems suited for combat-ready squadron of sixteen."

"I understand that, Colonel," the Senator said, "but having Rogue Squadron in the region would bring my people peace of mind. There are many frightened people on Jaminere right now."

***

* * *

"We leave for the Jaminere system at 0700 tomorrow morning," Darvix said. "I want everyone to get a good night's sleep tonight. I need you all to be alert and focused on your scanners while in-flight tomorrow. Any questions so far?"

Darvix scanned over the briefing room. He still remembered all of the pilots he had flown with years earlier, but he was having issues putting names to faces of the new recruits. He glanced over at a woman in the back who had raised her hand.

"Yes, what's your question Ms. Hooker?" Darvix asked, looking back at his notes.

"Flight Officer Skobra," she replied, visibly annoyed. "How long are we expecting to be in the Jaminere system?"

"It depends," Darvix said. "Ideally we'll have this wrapped up in a few days, but realistically I figure we'll be in the system for two or three weeks. Question, Pash?"

Pash Cracken sat upright, "Have you and Colonel Solo worked out our wing assignments"

"We have," Darvix picked up his datapad. "Listen up, everyone. I'm not going to repeat this. One flight consists of Colonel Solo, Major ke Hanadi, Flight Officer Anthek, and Flight Officer Dain. Colonel Solo is your wing leader. Wing pairs consist of Solo-Dain and ke Hanadi-Anthek.

"Two Flight consists of myself, Major Qyrrg, Flight Officer Tromans, and Lieutenant Lensi. I'm serving as the wing leader. Pairs are Qyrrg-Lensi as well as myself and Tromans."

Darvix smiled to himself as he noticed the surprise and discomfort appear on Lilea Tromans' face, "Three Flight consists of Major Cracken, Flight Officer Zess, Captain Nevil, and Flight Officer Katar. Major Cracken is the wing leader. Pairs are Cracken-Zess and Nevil-Katar."

"Four flight consists of Major Forge, Flight Officer Lisae, Flight Officer Skobra, and Major Azzameen. Major Forge will serve as wing leader. Pairs are Forge-Lisae and Azzameen-Skobra."

Darvix set his datapad down, "If you have any objections to your flight assignments, feel free to leave a note on my desk and I'll be sure to ignore it. As a final note, Colonel Solo wanted me to tell you that we have flushed out our support staff. Joining us tomorrow will be Commander Lysa Chanaan and Second Lieutenant Vik Kelrune. Commander Chanaan will be serving as squadron quartermaster and Chief Intelligence Officer. Lieutenant Kelrune will be our astrogations specialist and will also act as a reserve pilot should the need arise."

"If that there are no questions, we'll dismiss-"

"I've got a question, sir," someone interrupted.

Darvix looked over at Erim Zess, "What would that be?"

"When was the last time you were behind the flightstick?"

_Right, you're the hothead bent getting some dirt on me,_ Darvix said to himself.

"I assume you mean in combat capacity," Darvix replied. "It's been about ten years. Any particular reason you'd like to know, Zess?"

"Well I'm just worried about my fellow pilots," Zess said innocently. "I'd hate for their safety to be in jeopardy because their wing leader is too old and too out of practice."

Murmurs filled the room. Darvix frowned and held up his hand, "Is that so, Zess? Tell you what, why don't I go ahead and address that concern right now. One versus one in the simulation chamber. I'll even give you the edge. You fly an X-Wing and I'll pilot a Wishbone."

"Sir, I couldn't possibly in good conscious take you up on that," Zess replied smugly. "You'd be vaped in thirty seconds."

The room was silent as Darvix stared down his subordinate. Was this really going to happen? Was Darvix really going to take on one of his pilots in a Y-Wing? The odds on the surface seemed dramatically unfair. The X-Wing was a vastly superior starfighter to the Y-Wing, and it was common knowledge that Darvix's skills were deteriorating. This couldn't possibly end well for him.

"Fifty credits on Zorvan," Major Forge said.

"Sixty on Zess," Skobra added.

***

* * *

Darvix was beginning to wonder what he had gotten himself into. His skills behind the flightstick were still sub-optimal, but now he had handicapped himself further by choosing to fly a starfigher that belonged in a museum. Darvix nudged the flightstick forward, frowning at the sluggish response. The Y-Wing was a far cry from the X-Wings he had spent his entire career flying. Everything felt like it ran in slow-motion. The thrusters, the laser cannons, even the targeting computer had a bit of lag to it.

At one point in time, the Koensayr BTL-A4 Y-Wing (better known as the "Wishbone" to pilots) had been the backbone of the Rebel Alliance fleet. Tougher and better armed than the Z-95 Headhunter, the Y-Wing became the strike craft of choice for many Rebellion squadrons. The A4 variant was a single-seat starfighter equipped with two forward-facing laser cannons and two locked ion-cannons, making it well equipped to quickly take down an opposing craft's shields. On each side of the cockpit was a projectile launcher capable of holding four proton-torpedoes each. While that was a paltry amount compared to modern strike fighters like the B-Wing, the Y-Wing's payload was more than enough to cripple most large capital ships.

The major pitfall of the Y-Wing was its lack of maneuverability. One of Darvix's instructors at the Flight Academy once remarked that flying a Y-Wing was akin to trying to steer a bantha through a sand trap. Darvix kept reaching for the throttle, thinking that he could increase the output of his thrusters only to realize that he was already at full. Simply put, the Y-Wing was target practice for sleeker and quicker opponents. That was perhaps the most important reason the Rebel Alliance commissioned the X-Wing.

"You ready to go, old man?" Erim asked.

"Shut up and fly," Darvix replied.

Darvix squared his targeting reticule over the outline of the X-Wing in the distance. They were flying straight at eachother, waiting for their targeting computers to offer up a solid lock. Taking his hand away from the throttle for a moment, Darvix reached for his shield control panel, shifting the distribution to double-front. If there was one thing he could use to his advantage, it was the Y-Wing's powerful hull plating and shield generator.

Finally the targeting reticule flashed green. He squeezed the trigger and let loose with a stream of laser and ion fire, tearing through the shields of Zess' X-Wing. At the same moment, the X-Wing fired at Darvix, lighting up his forward shields. At the last second, he peeled away and quickly evened out his shields. He took a quick stock of his condition. No major systems damaged, shields at forty-three per cent. As he glanced down at his targeting computer, he saw that Zess' X-Wing wasn't faring well. Shields at fifteen percent with minor hull damage.

He knew he wasn't safe yet. Now Zess was behind him, and with the Y-Wing's sluggish controls, it would be very hard to shake him. Quickly, he shunted his shields to double-back to cover his aft. He grimaced as laser fire zoomed past his canopy, causing him to throw his Y-Wing into a dive to evade the spray of Zess' attack. He needed to shake the X-Wing and get behind it if he was going to have any chance of pulling this off.

Warning alarms went off in Darvix's cockpit, signaling that Zess had a solid target lock on him. Darvix was running out of time. Without thinking, he rotated the Y-Wing ninety degrees onto its side and pulled back on the flight stick as hard as he could, putting the starfighter into a steep bank maneuver. A grin formed on his lips as he glanced behind him, seeing that Zess had followed cut his throttle to zero power and a moment later, Zess overshot him.

Darvix shoved his throttle back to full power and quickly lined up his targeting reticule ahead of the X-Wing. Without waiting for a lock he pulled back on the trigger. The red and purple fire of the Y-Wing's cannons tore through the remainder of Zess' shields and into his starfighter. Moments later, the X-Wing erupted into a ball of flame.

Darvix let go of the flightstick as the simulator screen in front of him went dark, "Huh. Maybe I still have a little something left in the tank."


	15. Interlude for a Teacher

**Chapter Thirteen – Interlude for a Teacher**

Darvix exhaled a puff of smoke from his mini cigarra as he adjusted the controls on his flightstick. The late night hours he had spent in the simulator were beginning to pay off. Before he was constantly overshooting his flightstick locations because the muscle memory he had developed in the Academy had worn off. Now he felt comfortable dialing up the sensitivity of his controls, allowing for significantly more precise movement. Darvix knew he was no where close to the skill levels he had shown as a twenty-year-old hotshot fresh from flight school, but he was making progress.

Idly, Darvix moved the throttle controls from full-stop to full-power. He felt a moment of surprise before realizing what was wrong. This wasn't the X-Wing he had flown for over a decade. This was a factory-new Incom XJ3. Darvix sighed and leaned back into the flightseat. His old X-Wing had a hitch in the throttle lever about a third of the way from full-power. Every time he had adjusted the thrust he would be met by a moment of resistance. This new starfighter's throttle was smooth and free-moving.

In Darvix's mind, his new X-Wing lacked the personality his old one had. There were no blaster scores or rough emergency welds. The flight console was pristine and free of scratches. The paint along the side of the fuselage hadn't faded yet. This was a ship devoid of character, a ship that had yet to form a bond between itself and the pilot. It bothered Darvix that he had yet to fly his new X-Wing. He had no idea how it handled or what its limits were.

He shook his head and began the process of powering down his flight computers. There was nothing more he could do until he actually lit up his engines for a flight. As he stood to exit the cockpit, he spotted a blonde-haired young girl standing on the flight deck below, examining the lower port-side engine of his X-Wing. Darvix raised a brow, extinguishing his mini cigarra and tossing it over the side of his X-Wing before descending the ladder hooked to his cockpit, "Now how did you sneak past security?"

The girl jumped, spinning around and staring wide-eyed up at Darvix, "I'm sorry! I'll leave right away!"

Darvix held up his hands, "Relax, I'm not going to turn you in. What are you doing in here?"

"I just wanted to look at the X-Wings," the girl confessed.

"Well…" Darvix said with a smile. "I don't see why that's a problem. What's your name, little lady?"

"Syal Antilles," The girl replied.

Darvix feigned surprise, "Syal Antilles? Daughter of the illustrious Wedge Antilles? You should have told me that sooner! I'm obligated to give you the VIP tour of this X-Wing now."

Syal's eyes lit up, "Really?"

"Of course," Darvix smiled. "Has your dad ever shown you his X-Wing before?"

"He has," Syal said, "but he doesn't know the difference between a navicomputer and a hyperdrive."

That's the good General for you, Darvix thought to himself. Brilliant with these birds but he has no idea what makes them work

"Well maybe I can help you out a bit," Darvix patted the lower-port engine beside him, "These are Incom 4L4 fusial thrust engines. Great combination of speed and durability."

"How fast can they go?" Syal asked, glancing into the forward intake of the engine.

Darvix thought for a moment, trying to recall the schematic readouts he had read over a few weeks earlier, "One hundred and sixty megalight per hour. Good deal faster than the X-Wings I grew up with that only topped out at one hundred even."

By now Syal was staring up at the wing-tip mounted laser cannons, "Are those the new Taim and Bak KX9s?"

Now it was Darvix's turn to feel surprised, "You know your X-Wings. Why don't you go hop up in the cockpit?"

"Can I really?" Syal was beaming now.

"Sure," Darvix replied. "Just be careful climbing up, it's a long way down to the hangar floor."

Darvix watched as Syal scrambled up the ladder and into the cockpit of his X-Wing. Darvix followed suit, climbing up the ladder and leaning against the hull, "First time sitting behind a flightstick?"

"Dad never let me sit in his X-Wing," Syal said. "He was afraid I'd break something."

"He might have a point," Darvix mused. "If you broke something, he'd have absolutely no idea how to fix it."

Darvix grinned and pointed at the monitor in the center of the flight console, "This is the multi-function display, or the MFD for short. When I'm flying I can have this monitor display data from my astromech droid, the navicomputer, the sensor array, or the targeting computer."

"What are those two screens on the canopy?" Syal asked.

Darvix looked at the two round displays above him, "Those are the forward and aft sensor displays. The screen on the left shows the targets ahead of you while the screen on the right shows the targets behind you. Friendlies appear as a green blip, enemy units appear red, and neutral units appear yellow."

"How do you shoot?"

"The controls are on the flightstick," Darvix gestured to the control unit in front of Syal. "The two red buttons by your little finger cycle through your weapons. Top button switches to cannons and the bottom button arms the missile launcher. The switch next to that sets your laser fire pattern. Top setting is single-fire, middle is dual-link, and the bottom is quad-link."

Darvix reached into the cockpit and placed Syal's index finger on the trigger of the flightstick, "This is the fire control. You can either squeeze the trigger for controlled bursts of fire or you can hold it down for a sustained shooting."

"Forgive me for interrupting, Major," someone said from the floor beneath Darvix, "but would you happen to have my daughter in there?"

Darvix looked to the floor and saw Wedge Antilles standing below him, "Yes sir. Just giving her a bit of a tour of my X-Wing."

"I trust she hasn't been too much of a bother to you," Wedge said as Darvix climbed down the ladder, followed quickly by Syal.

"Not at all, sir," Darvix replied. "Syal's been the perfect student. Give her some time in a simulator and I imagine people will speak of her flight skills much the same way they speak of yours."

"Hopefully the Galaxy will never need for her to sit in the cockpit of one of these birds," Wedge said as he playfully mused Syal's hair. "Your mother's looking for you, Syal. Head on back to our quarters, I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Yes, daddy," Syal said before turning to face Darvix. "Thank you for letting me see your X-Wing, mister."

"I had no idea you could deal with children," Wedge mused as Syal scurried out of the hangar. "I'll have to keep you in mind when Iella and I are looking for a babysitter."

Darvix shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and looked to the floor, "Before I defected to the New Republic I was planning to become a school teacher."

"Mr. Zorvan, that's rather noble," Wedge said. "Is that a shred of humanity and decency I hear?"

Darvix chuckled, "If it's all the same, sir, I'd prefer that this conversation stay between us."

"Don't worry, Major," Wedge replied. "I won't tell your squadron that deep down you're just a big softy."

"Thank you, sir."

***

* * *

Twelve hours later Darvix found himself back in the cockpit of his X-Wing, staring into the molten black and blue tunnel of hyperspace. Most pilots didn't enjoy the long transit time spent in hyperspace, but Darvix found it oddly relaxing. It was a rare opportunity for him to be alone with his thoughts. Reaching for the flight console, Darvix increased the opacity of the transparisteel canopy, blocking out the sight of hyperspace from his view.

"Zone, could you feed some music through the cockpit speakers?" Darvix asked his R2 unit. "Some of that neo-classical keybed stuff I uploaded into your memory banks last week."

Darvix closed his eyes as the soft tones of the keybed began playing in his cockpit. Twilight of Coruscant in Gamma Major. It was a piece Darvix was very familiar with for it was one of the first challenging keybed pieces he had learned to play as a teenager. He hadn't much cared for the piece in his younger years, but as he matured the song grew on him. The song was intricate, its smooth legato melodies floating along the entire range of the instrument. Occasionally it would flirt with a darker minor chord for a measure or two before lifting back into a major feel.

"Are you awake, Major Zorvan?" a voice said over Darvix's helmet-mounted speakers.

Darvix blinked a few times and sat a bit more upright, recognizing the voice of his wingman, "I am now. What do you need, Tromans?"

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir," Lilea said, nervousness clearly present in her voice. "I was just wondering if you had received any more intelligence from the Jaminere system."

"I personally haven't been given anything beyond what was shared during yesterday's briefing," Darvix replied, "but I know that Commander Chanaan is pouring over some data that was handed to her just before we left the Mon Monthma."

"I see," Lilea replied. "Thank you, sir."

Darvix frowned for a moment, "Are you okay, Tromans?"

"Yes, sir," Lilea responded quickly. "It's just…I haven't heard from my mother for two weeks."

_So that's where this is going,_ Darvix said to himself. "You're from Jaminere, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"I see," Darvix turned off the music playing in the cockpit. "I wouldn't be too worried. In my discussions with the senator from your planet I came under the impression that the Jaminere Security Taskforce was putting most of the civilian population on a communications lockdown. The only holonet traffic in or out is from the Jaminere government or the Galactic Alliance."

"I know about the communications blockade," Lilea said, "but…Jaminere has never been all that pleasant of a world. There's a lot of crime and illegal activity that goes on right under the nose of the government. Lately things have gotten pretty bad…A lot of people are scared."

"I'm sure everything is fine, Tromans," Darvix said as he looked at the chronometer mounted on his canopy. "Another ten minutes or so and you'll be able to confirm that for yourself. Do you have any other family down there?"

_Poor girl is really concerned, I need to keep her talking,_ Darvix said to himself.

"Just my mother," Lilea said. "I'm an only child and dad left when I was young."

Darvix nodded, "Sounds like you two are pretty close."

"She was my best friend growing up," Lilea admitted. "On Jaminere you're lucky to have anyone who cares about you. Most children are accidents and become burdens to irresponsible parents…Perhaps that's why so few people care when boys and girls suddenly go missing after they're discretely sold to slave traders."

"I understand where you're coming from," Darvix said as he watched the chronometer approach the two-minute mark. "I grew up on Nar Shaada while it was still controlled by the Imperial Remnant. Every corner of that moon was festering with wanted criminals and shady smugglers. Really it was a lot like Jaminere, just a backwater system that flew under the sensors of the regional government."

"At least it was fairly easy for me to get away and enroll in the Starfighter Academy," Lilea said. "How did you escape an Imperial controlled planet?"

Darvix grinned to himself, "I smuggled myself on board a cargo freighter bound for an outer-rim outpost. From there I stole a black-market X-Wing and made my way to Tatooine and requested asylum."

The radio remained uncomfortably silent for several minutes. Darvix could sense that something was still on Lilea's mind, "Something else bothering you, Tromans?"

"No, sir," Lilea quickly replied. "Actually…Yes. Be honest with me, Major. How close am I to washing out?"

"Excuse me?" Darvix asked.

"The writing is on the wall," Lilea's voice sounded more demure than ever. "The only unit I could get into was one so desperate for pilots it had to resort to hiring the castoffs from other squadrons. What's worse is that you chose me as your wingman."

Darvix had to hand it to Lilea, she was extremely observant. Even if Darvix wanted to lie to her to make her feel better for a short while, he knew that Lilea would see right through it, "You're close to washing out. Very close, to be honest."

He could hear Lilea breathe a sigh of disappointment over the radio, "How long do you figure I have before I can expect to be reassigned to a cargo hauler?"

"It depends," Darvix said. "How hard are you willing to work?"

"I'm not sure I understand, sir," Lilea replied.

"I'm asking you if you're willing to put in the effort to succeed, and let me tell you, it will require a lot of pain and suffering on your part," Darvix explained. "Your flight control skills are well below average. Whenever you go into combat mode you overshoot your targets because you make too many unnecessary flight path adjustments. You haven't mastered your throttle controls either.

"But," Darvix continued, "you have shown a great deal of intellectual aptitude. By all indications your field of vision is excellent and you know how to process information in a hurry. Many of the instructor comments you got while you were at the Academy lauded you for your ability to be a strategist at the flightstick."

"I appreciate you trying to cheer me up, Major," Lilea said, "but that doesn't change the fact I can't fly to save my life."

"There's a good deal more to being a starfighter pilot than being able to nose behind an enemy unit to squeeze off a few shots," Darvix said as he watched the chronometer tick closer to zero. "Being able to recognize enemy formations in an instant and figuring out how to best engage is something no one talks about when evaluating a pilot. The ability to process information is what keeps you alive and makes your entire unit successful, and as it turns out you're pretty good at making sense of the chaos around you."

"You make it sound as if I belong in Naval Operations and not behind the flightstick," Lilea noted.

"If you can't cut it as a pilot that's probably something you should consider doing instead," Darvix admitted. "But for the time being, I think there's a chance you could pan out as a pilot. If you can become merely average with your flight controls, your ability to evaluate and analyze a skirmish zone on the fly has the potential to push you into the elite as far as starfighter pilots go."

"I think you're the very definition of undervalued talent," Darvix said. "but right now you're as raw as pilots come. You're simply the biggest liability in the squadron right now, which is one of two reasons why you're my wingman."

"And reason number two is?" Lilea asked.

"I think I can get you up to speed in a hurry," Darvix explained. "Provided you're willing to put more effort into this than you've put into anything else before."

"I'll do my best, Major," Lilea said. "I'm a little surprised, though. I was under the impression that you're supposed to be somewhat of a hard-ass and a superior that's impossible to please."

Darvix was silent for a moment, "Don't get me wrong, Tromans. I think you can be good, but if you don't pan out I will transfer you out of Starfighter Command without a second thought. I can't have you risking your own life and the lives of everyone else in this unit because you can't get a good feel for your X-Wing. Your only hope to stick around is to show me that you're capable of handling your flight controls."

"You've got you're work cut out for you," Darvix watched as the chronometer ticked backwards from 30 seconds. "As someone else in this unit can attest to, I am an extremely difficult instructor to please."

Suddenly Darvix's navicomputer began to chirp at him. The transparisteel canopy reverted back to it's native translucent form as his X-Wing exited hyperspace and reverted back into realspace. Darvix took control of his flightstick, pulling back slightly in order to bring the planet Jaminere into his forward sights, "Two flight report in."

"Ten is fine, forming on your port thrusters," Ooryl said over the radio.

"Twelve is on your aft," Lieutenant Lensi chimed in.

"Thirteen on your starboard thrusters," Lilea reported.

Darvix glanced to his right, "Give me some space, Tromans. One twitch and you're going to take off half of my starboard S-Foils at that distance."

"Yes, sir," Lilea said sheepishly.

Colonel Solo's voice came through the radio next, "Talk to me Eleven. Are you seeing some odd debris on your sensor readouts?"

Darvix frowned and pulled up the sensor data on his MFD, "Copy that, Boss. I'm picking up what looks to be…starfighter debris. Reading trace remnants of laser discharge in the vicinity. Whatever caused this must have been here only an hour or so ago."

"Five here," Cheriss spoke up over the radio. "I've got visual on some debris. Looks like fuselage assembly of a Z-95 Headhunter. Correct me if I'm wrong, but doesn't Jaminere Security operate with those old birds?"

"That's correct," Jaina said. "Damn, these wrecks can't be any more than an hour old. Someone hail the Jaminere Security Forces. I want to know what the hell happened out here."

"I've been trying since we dropped out of hyperspace," Pash responded. "I'm not getting a response."

"I've got a bad feeling about this," another voice said over the radio that Darvix recognized as belonging to the greenhorn Rixar Dain.

"Dammit, Fifteen!" Inyri cursed.

"What?"

"Don't ever say that," Inyri spat. "It brings nothing but bad luck."

"Cut the chatter!" Jaina snapped. "Eleven, Three, form up on me. Everyone else fall back into a wide-spread orbit over Jaminere. Azzameen is in command while I'm gone."

"Acknowledged, one," Darvix said as he pulled back on his fight stick. "Forming on your four o'clock."

"Copy, one," Inyri followed suit. "I'm on your eight."

Darvix followed Colonel Solo's lead, quickly breaching the outer atmosphere of the planet. He couldn't deny what Rixar Dain had noticed earlier. Something felt very, very wrong. He tried to shut out the Force as he piloted through the cloud layers of Jaminere. In the back of his mind he could hear the screams of pain and suffering from those living on the planets surface.

No, something didn't feel wrong. Darvix knew that something was terribly wrong.

"Breaching cloud layer," Jaina said. "…Oh sithspit."

"My stars," Inyri replied quietly.

Moments later Darvix's X-Wing broke through the clouds. Before him lay the ruins of the capital city of Jaminere. Buildings had been reduced to rubble, some were still aflame. As Darvix glanced over the horizon he could make out the distinct marks of turbolaser and starfighter laser scoring.

Someone had laid waste to the city.


	16. Blackout

Chapter Fourteen – Blackout

Jaina Solo was furious. For two hours she had been on the holonet with various Galactic Alliance officers and politicians, trying to secure immediate aid for the Jaminere system. Each person she talked to gave her the same answer: No additional military or civilian starship traffic would be permitted until the Senate ordered blockade was lifted. When Jaina tried to inquire as to why a blockade had been implemented in the first place she was simply told that she wouldn't be given classified information.

"This is absurd, Admiral!" Jaina barked. "I don't care if we can't get extra surveillance in this system but at the very least we've got to get supplies here."

Jaina had set up her portable communications terminal atop her X-Wing's flight console. Most of the Rogues were busy setting up a makeshift camp where they had landed outside of the Capital City limits. A few minutes earlier she had allowed Darvix and Cheriss to escort Flight Cadet Tromans into the city to try and find the young pilot's mother. Jaina was hoping to hear a more detailed status report from them shortly.

"I don't like this anymore than you do, Solo," the holoimage of Admiral Darklighter said. "Unfortunately my hands are tied. Unless that blockade is lifted I can't grant any Galactic Alliance naval or military vessels authorization to enter the system."

"What am I supposed to do, Admiral?" Jaina asked. "We need at least two dozen Bacta chambers and an entire medical triage team. The city is dangerously low on foodstuffs, we've got wounded civilians left and right, and you're telling me there's no way anyone can get a few supply freighters into the system?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Colonel," Darklighter replied. "All I can tell you is that if you want to get some aid into that system, you're going to need to get a bit creative."

"Sir?"

"I trust you haven't had the time to brief your pilots as to the full extent of the blockade, correct?" The admiral asked.

"Not yet, sir," Jaina replied.

"Speaking strictly off the record, if one of them sneaks off out of the blockade region to send a subspace transmission for help you and that pilot wouldn't technically be violating any Galactic Alliance military regulations," The Admiral explained. "After all, they don't know the blockade is in place and you didn't have time to tell them about it."

"Sir, are you suggesting-"

"I'm not suggesting anything, Colonel," Darklighter was beginning to sound somewhat agitated. "I'm just having a conversation about procedural and regulatory loopholes. If you'd like to continue this line of discussion, I'd suggest casually bringing the topic up with your executive officer. I hear he has some experience when it comes to…bending the rules. Darklighter out."

Before Jaina could protest the holoimage vanished. She sighed and picked up her comlink, keying it on, "You there, Zorvan?"

***

* * *

All around Darvix was the rubble of buildings that had been obliterated by turbolaser fire. Everywhere he looked were smoking craters and the charred corpses of the unfortunate Jaminere citizens who weren't able to save themselves. The injured were everywhere and he didn't have enough supplies in his portable medkit to tend to all of them. All he could do was prioritize the injuries and even then all he could really do was apply bacta strips and administer painkillers. So much of this was out of Darvix's control, and he didn't like that at all.

"I've got one over here," Cheriss ke Hanadi said, directing Darvix's attention to a woman slumped against a large piece of rubble.

Darvix walked over to the woman but knew even before he knelt down beside her that there was nothing he could do. She was bleeding profusely and had already lost a good deal of blood. His bacta strips were useless against wounds of that size. As the woman weakly reached out towards him, Darvix stood up, walking away from her.

"Aren't you at least going to try and help her?" Cheriss asked as she walked alongside Darvix.

He shook his head, "Nothing I can do unless someone can find a bacta tank and a emergency surgeon nearby."

"Shouldn't you at least try something?" Cheriss stepped out in front of Darvix, stopping him in his tracks.

"I could use the entire contents of both of our medkits and she'd still be dead within the hour," Darvix explained as he sidestepped Cheriss and continued walking.

"The least you could have done was show her some semblance of compassion," Cheriss said from behind Darvix. "She's going to die alone and you don't seem to care in the slightest."

"There's nothing I can do," Darvix said. "If you want to hold her hand for a while, be my guest."

As Cheriss was getting ready to argue further with Darvix he felt his comlink go off. Pulling it off his belt he flipped it on, "Zorvan's House of Pain, this is Master Darvix speaking."

"Shut up," Jaina said over the comlink. "I just finished speaking with Admiral Darklighter."

Darvix glanced up into the cloudy sky as he felt a few raindrops fall onto his bare arms, "And how did that go?"

"Not quite as I expected," Jaina said. "We might have some issues getting medical and food supplies here."

Darvix swore to himself. He was afraid this was going to happen. None of the intelligence reports given to Rogue Squadron prior to leaving the Tatooine starsystem mentioned anything of pirates or smugglers in the Jaminere region with enough firepower capable of reducing an entire city to rubble. Either someone in the military or Galactic Alliance senate screwed up, or someone was trying to hide something.

_I should have gotten more information out of that damn Senator,_ Darvix said to himself.

"Colonel if you don't mind, I'd like to take the first patrol shift tonight," Darvix said.

The comlink was quiet for a moment before Jaina answered, "Not at all, Major. When are you planning on starting your patrol?"

"Three hours," Darvix said. "When are you planning to hold your briefing?"

"Three hours and five minutes," Jaina replied.

Darvix grinned, "Shame I'm going to miss it, Colonel."

"Indeed," Jaina sounded almost relieved over the comlink. "Solo out."

As Darvix put his comlink back in his pocket, Cheriss spoke up again, "What was that about?"

"Nothing important," Darvix said. "I've got the first patrol tonight, so I need to be in my X-Wing in about three hours."

"If that's the case, we'd better go find Lilea," Cheriss replied.

A look of confusion flashed on Darvix's face, "Who?"

"Lilea," Cheriss raised a brow. "Your wingman. Greenhorn rookie from this planet."

"Oh!" Darvix said. "You mean Tromans."

"You're something else, Dap," Cheriss shook her head. "Are you ever going to bother to learn the names of the new pilots."

"No," Darvix said flatly. "Soon as they do that they'll think that I like them."

"That's a problem?"

"If they think I like them they'll start viewing me as an emotional crutch when things go wrong," Darvix explained as he picked up his medkit "and in our business, it's only a matter of time before things go very wrong."

Cheriss frowned, "Is that so wrong? What are you going to do if something bad happens while we're out here?"

"I'll be fine," Darvix said quietly. "I don't expect others to burden me with their issues, so I'm not going to burden anyone with my own."

"You wouldn't want to talk with me if something bad happened?" Cheriss asked.

"I especially don't want to burden you," Darvix admitted. The sympathy on Cheriss face was one Darvix didn't see from many people. What's more was that it was a look that people rarely directed at Darvix.

Cheriss only shook her head as she placed a hand on Darvix's shoulder, "I know you don't like to show compassion towards anyone, but refusing the sympathies and goodwill from others? You might think that you're doing us a favor by keeping your thoughts to yourself, but it's okay to open up to us every once in a while."

"At the very least…" Cheriss sighed softly. "It wouldn't hurt if you opened up to me now and then. You've been remarkably distant ever since I showed up on the _Mon Mothma_. A lot more distant than you've ever acted towards me."

Darvix felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. Had he really been acting that way towards Cheriss? "I'm sorry. I've just had a lot on my mind lately."

"Can you at least promise you'll try to talk to me every once in a while?" Cheriss asked. "Sometimes it feels like you're a different person than the man I agreed to marry eleven years ago."

Darvix wrapped his arms around Cheriss and pulled her into his chest, holding her there for a few moments, "I promise. I also promise I'm still the same person I was eleven years ago."

"Excluding that receding hairline?" Cheriss asked.

"You agreed to marry me for my abs, not my hair," Darvix said.

***

* * *

Several hours later Darvix was sitting behind the flightstick of his X-Wing again. One by one he ran through his systems checklist. Flight controls were operational, avionics computer functional, weapons controls within normal parameters. All that was left to do was start up his sublight engines. As Darvix reached for the engine control toggles he saw a helmeted head pop up over the side of his X-Wing's cockpit.

"I just wanted to thank you for letting my track down my mother," Lilea Tromans said.

"I didn't have much of a choice," Darvix said as he pulled on his black flightsuit gloves. "If Colonel Solo or myself refused to let you go find her, you'd probably be an emotional wreck. Our job is hard enough. The last thing any of us need is something providing additional stress."

As Darvix reached atop his X-Wing's flight console for his helmet, he noticed that Lilea hadn't backed down the ladder. Something was on her mind.

"Anything else, Flight Cadet?" Darvix asked gruffly as he slid his helmet over his head and snapping the chinstrap into place.

"If you don't mind, sir," Lilea seemed apprehensive. "I've got my mother on the comlink. She'd like to speak with you."

Darvix shot Lilea an annoyed glance. He wasn't her school teacher and he was in no mood to have a conference with her mother. However, Darvix knew that if he didn't take that comlink call, both Lilea and her mother would be nervous wrecks. Darvix sighed to himself and held out his gloved hand, which Lilea promptly placed the comlink into.

Taking a deep breath, Darvix switched the comlink on, "This is Major Darvix Zorvan of the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances Navy. How can I be of service, Ms. Tromans?"

"Lilea tells me you're her superior officer," a voice said through the comlink's static.

"Yes ma'am," Darvix nodded to himself. "I'm her executive officer and current wing commander."

"Good," The woman replied. "I'll be brief, Major. I need you to promise me something."

Darvix rolled his eyes and suppressed the urge to groan, "What might that be, Ms. Tromans?"

"Keep my daughter safe."

"Ms. Tromans, I…" Darvix was taken aback for a moment. It was a simple request, but he was having a hard time responding. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before speaking again, "I give you my word that your daughter will be fine. I don't intend to let anything happen to the pilots under my watch."

"Thank you, Major," Lilea's mother replied. "In the last twenty-four hours I lost my home and everything I own. Lilea's all I have left, so please keep her safe."

"Yes, ma'am," Darvix said. "Zorvan out."

Darvix flipped off the comlink and placed it back in Lilea's hand, "Go get in your X-Wing. We've got a patrol to fly."

"Yes, sir," Lilea nodded. "Thank you, sir."

Darvix glared at Lilea, "Get off my X-Wing, will you?"

***

* * *

Inyri Forge watched as the two X-Wings departed for their patrol for a few moments before turning her attention back to Colonel Solo. The Rogues had gathered under a portable canvas shelter, a small blessing considering the rain that was beginning to fall around their makeshift camp. Inyri noticed that many of her fellow pilots were looking tired. They had spent the better part of the day sifting through the ruined capital city, allowing for both physical and mental exhaustion to set in. Many of the younger pilots were looking exceptionally distraught. For them, it was their first time seeing the fallout of military action.

"Thank you for arriving promptly," Colonel Solo said. "I'll be handling this briefing since Major Zorvan is on patrol."

Inyri folded her arms across her chest, trying to tune out the sound of the rain hitting the canvas shelter, "Wouldn't it be prudent to have all of us present for a briefing?"

"Major Zorvan and I discussed that and both of us felt it would be best for himself and Lilea to immediately begin patrolling the system," Colonel solo replied. "I think after this briefing all of you will agree it was the right decision to make."

Flight Cadet Haruko Skobra scoffed, "What's that supposed to mean, Colonel?"

"Shut up, Skobra," Colonel Solo snapped. "You've just earned yourself the next patrol shift. Anyone else want to add something or can I continue?"

Jaina waited a few moments, noticing that many of the younger pilots were now staring at the cold, wet ground below them, "Good. A few hours ago I spoke to Admiral Darklighter. I'm not going to dance around this, our Galactic Alliance intelligence screwed up. We can't find any evidence that sentient being trafficking has ever taken place in the Jaminere system."

"How can that be?" Ace asked, shaking his head. "I read through all of the intelligence documents concerning this system. The citizens here were scared sithless over people that were disappearing off the face of the Galaxy."

"That should have been Intel's first clue," Jaina said. "There's no denying that people have been vanishing from the cities here. Unfortunately our people have yet to track a single missing person down."

"With our intelligence network I can't believe that a missing person would stay missing for long," Cheriss ke Hanadi noted quietly. "Something or someone would have shown up, especially considering the number of missing persons reports filed in this system."

"That's the problem," Jaina acknowledged. "Without any trace of where these missing people have gone, we can't confirm that illegal trafficking has occurred in this system. Intelligence and the Naval higher-ups are beginning to suspect that the reason we were sent here is entirely artificial."

"Let me get this straight," Inyri said. "We now doubt that illegal slave trading has occurred in this system, but we can still confirm that people have gone missing. Furthermore, we've got a destroyed capital city, tens of thousands of civilian deaths, and we have no idea what caused it, or if these two issues are even related."

"Sadly that isn't even our biggest problem right now," Jaina rubbed her eyes, trying to gather her thoughts once more. "Twenty-six minutes after we arrived in this system, a blockade and communications blackout was authorized by the Galactic Alliance Senate. We're stuck here without an open channel of communications and the ability to order in emergency aid supplies for the survivors of Jaminere City."

Erim Zess was the next to speak up, "Do you mean if whatever destroyed that city comes back, we're the only ones that can stop them?"

"That's correct," Jaina said flatly. "We are unable to secure help through official channels until further notice. If things get really bad, we can't even leave this system without getting court marshaled."

"You said we couldn't get help through "official channels," correct Colonel?" Inyri asked.

Jaina offered a half-smile and nodded, "Correct, Major."

"So, let's say that you were forced to send one of our more…creative pilots on an emergency patrol," Inyri pondered aloud. "Technically, we can't be held responsible if that pilot, who wasn't present at this briefing because of that emergency patrol you saw fit to order, accidentally broke the communications blackout to contact a non Galactic Alliance affiliated party to request assistance?"

"I'm sure the Naval review board wouldn't be pleased, but according to my interpretation of the rules that would be the case," Jaina shrugged. "If Major Zorvan sees fit to contact outside help, I can't hold it against him since he wasn't present at this briefing. Likewise, the Galactic Alliance senate can't hold it against us since extenuating circumstances forced me to send out an emergency patrol five minutes before this briefing took place."

"It's good to be back in Rogue Squadron, isn't it Ooryl?" Ace Azzameen nudged the Gand beside him in the ribs.

Ooryl nodded, "Ooryl missed Rogue Squadron's interpretation of the rules."

"Now, now," Jaina said. "We're not breaking any rules, we're just using their wording to our advantage. That said, I don't have anything left to add to this briefing other than a few immediate assignments. Skobra and Lensi are to prepare for system patrol when Major Zorvan and Flight Officer Tromans return. I want Dain and Azzameen to take the first shift watching over the camp."

The pilots named acknowledged their orders as Jaina continued, "I want Flight Officer Lisae to take the first shift watching sensor readouts. Get into your X-Wing and keep an eye on your long-range scanners. If something out of the ordinary shows up, you are to immediately alert the entire squadron so we can get set to scramble."

"As for everyone else," Jaina paused. "Get some sleep. I'll have the assignment orders worked out in the next twenty minutes. Shifts will change every three hours, so don't get too comfortable in your bedding. Questions anyone? No? Dismissed."

As pilots were beginning to filter out of the shelter to head to their own tents or assignments, Inyri walked up to Jaina, "So was this stunt your ideas or Darvix's?"

"Mine," Jaina said. "Zorvan seemed to approve, though. It's a little disturbing being on the same wavelength as him."

"Nonesense," Inyri replied, patting Jaina on the shoulder. "Bending the rules is a time-honored Rogue Squadron tradition."


	17. Smuggler Alliance

**Chapter 15 - Smuggler Alliance**

Lilea Tromans cast a nervous glance about the poorly lit Star Destroyer hanger as she locked her flight helmet in the underbelly compartment of her X-Wing. She couldn't quite believe that she was standing on board the Errant Venture, a smuggler hangout of almost mythical status. Lilea wasn't sure what to feel. Part of her was frightened out of her mind. Part of her was repulsed that she, an officer of the Galactic Alliance's most renowned and revered flight squadron, was even on board this ship.

"Isn't that a bit much?" Lilea asked as she glanced over at Darvix.

"What?" Darvix asked as he placed his BlasTec DL-44 heavy handblaster in his shoulder holster.

Lilea frowned as she unzipped the top of her flightsuit, pulling her arms out of the heavy sleeves and tying them around her waist, "Seems like you're trying to make a point with that thing. I thought those handblasters were outlawed in Galactic Alliance systems."

"They are," Darvix replied as he cast a sideways glance towards Lilea. "You carry a DL-44 to make a statement. One blast from this thing will burn a hole clear through you. If you see someone with this blaster attached to them, you give them a ten meter berth."

"Seems like overkill," Lilea brushed a few strands of her ginger hair out of her eyes as she followed Darvix out of the hanger.

"This is a standard precautionary practice when you're on board the Errant Venture," Darvix explained. "Those who say Mos Eisley is the hive of scum and villainy have never set foot aboard this infamous smuggler's den. Every seedy character ever to grace the Galaxy has passed through the halls of Booster Terrik's flagship at some point."

Lilea remained quiet as she eyed a drunk Twi'lek stumbled through the corridor. She watched as Darvix cast a glance at the drunkard, twisting his torso so the Twi'lek could take a good, long look at the handle of his deadly hand blaster. Without even a word, the Twi'Lek edged closer to the wall, making every effort to avoid eye contact with Darvix.

"Would you mind if I asked a question, Major?" Lilea asked as the Twi'lek passed by.

"Yes I would mind, but that's not going to stop you," Darvix glanced at the ship layout map on his datapad.

"Why are we here?" Lilea asked flatly.

Darvix paused in front of a door leading to a conference room, shaking his head, "How disappointing. Of all of the greenhorns in the squadron, I thought you would have been the one that was smart enough to put all of this together."

"Excuse me?" Lilea responded. If there was one thing about Darvix she truly despised, it was his penchant for offering cryptic responses to straightforward questions. There were times it seemed like he expected everyone around him to be on the same wavelength he was. If you weren't thinking exactly what he was thinking at that moment, he'd become extraordinarily short-tempered.

Lilea followed Darvix into the conference room, taking a seat next to him at the end of a long table, "Our patrol was supposed to last three hours, not three days," she said quietly. "What the hell are we going to tell Colonel Solo when we get back?"

"She knows we're out here," Darvix tapped his fingers against the surface of the table.

"Well if everyone else knows what's going on why don't you let me in on it!?" Lilea slammed her fists on the table.

Lilea shrunk into her chair as Darvix fixed her with one of the coldest stares she had ever seen in her life, "Figure it out yourself, Tromans. The less I tell you, the better off you are."

Before Lilea could argue, the door behind her opened and four figures stepped into the room. The first two she instantly recognized as being Tycho Celchu and Wedge Antilles, two of the earliest members of Rogue Squadron. The third person was a heavyset, aging man with a cybernetic eye implant. The fourth was a middle-aged woman clad in a worn bantha leather jacket. Lilea assumed that they were part of the Errant Venture's command staff and, by extension, smugglers. She was somewhat taken aback as she watched how casually Celchu and Antilles conversed with the two fringe scoundrels.

"I'm sure you already know who Colonel Celchu and General Antilles are," Darvix said as he casually gestured to the two former Rogues. "The formidable looking gentleman is none other than Booster Terrik, smuggler extraordinaire. Standing next to him is the…always lovely Mirax Terrik Horn."

"You're rather flattering for someone who's supposed to be dead," Mirax mused as she took a seat at the head of the table.

"Oh come now, Mirax," Darvix replied with a smile, "you don't really think a rogue asteroid fragment is all it takes to kill me, do you?"

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you know these smugglers," Lilea said under her breath.

"No, you shouldn't," Tycho spoke up. "Rogue Squadron has contracted with the Errant Venture numerous times in the past. I also have it on good authority that Mr. Zorvan has privately cut a few private deals with Booster over the years."

"A few illegal sidearms here, a few pouches of illicit drugs there," Darvix shrugged. "My business deals with Booster have been fairly standard."

Lilea cast a sideways glance at Darvix who only offered a cocky smile in response. Of course Major Zorvan had enlisted the services of the smuggler's alliance in the past. After all, it only made sense that someone with such reckless disregard for the rules would be more than willing to broker deals with the most despicable figures in the Galaxy. What Lilea wanted to know was why Wedge Antilles and Tycho Celchu were getting in on these shenanigans.

"Forgive me if I try to move this meeting along," Mirax interrupted, casting a tired glance around the conference room. "What exactly can I do for you, Dap?"

Darvix grimaced for a moment, "Technically I'm not here, and I can't ask you for anything or I'm looking at a court marshall."

"I take it you're part of the squadron that's trapped on Jaminere?" Mirax asked. She glanced over at Lilea, who must have seen the surprised look on her face. "News travels quickly through the smuggler network. I figured it was only a matter of time before someone from Rogue Squadron got a hold of us… Well, Mr. Zorvan, since you can't make any requests, I presume that Wedge and Tycho are here to work out a deal on Rogue Squadron's behalf?"

"Got it in one," Wedge said. "From the sounds of it, Jaminere City needs a fully-staffed medical triage unit. Do you think the Network can spare anyone?"

"Things are fairly quiet right now," Booster chimed in. "I can probably send twelve of our emergency physicians plus their typical support staff. What are we looking at in terms of Bacta?"

"A dozen or so Bacta chambers will probably be needed," Tycho said as he glanced at his datapad. "I'm not sure where you can scrounge up the hardware, but if you can get a hold of Hobbie he may be able to work out a deal with Zaltin Bacta to get the Bacta itself on the cheap."

"We could also use two or three large freighters worth of emergency supplies," Wedge noted. "The usual…Rations, portable shelter, survival equipment."

Mirax finished jotting down notes on the sheet of flimsy in front of her, "Just who are we going to be charging for all of these supplies? It's not going to come cheap."

Wedge glanced at Tycho, a grin on his face, "Is Cracken still heading up Alliance Intelligence?"

"Not officially, but he seems to be the de facto coordinator these days," Tycho said. "Are you proposing we bill him?"

"I don't see why not," Wedge beamed as the grin on his face spread wider. "Alliance Intel screwed up, so it's only fair they get stuck with footing the cost of the supplies."

Lilea watched in silence as the others in the room smoothed out the final details of the deal. She simply could not wrap her mind around all of this. How could these two completely different factions be conversing so casually? Here she was, watching two of the military's most decorated and celebrated heroes working out an illegal goods transaction. What bothered her was the lack of hesitation by both parties. Neither side seemed to be bothered by the other, even though though one side clearly represented law and order, while the other represented a sort of dark, seedy side of the Galaxy.

"I think we've got enough to work with here," Darvix said. "Flight Officer Tromans and I should probably be returning to Jaminere soon, but before I go… Booster, old friend, can I buy you a drink?"

***

* * *

"I suppose they don't teach the true history of the Rebellion in the Academy anymore, do they?" Wedge Antilles asked.

Lilea glanced over her shoulder as she closed the underbelly compartment of her X-Wing, surprised to see that the former Rogue had snuck up on her without her noticing, "Excuse me, sir?"

"It's to be expected, I suppose," Wedge leaned against the forward landing strut of Lilea's X-Wing. "It was only a matter of time before our own propaganda material began to mirror that of the Empire's."

"I'm not sure I follow, sir," Lilea

Wedge pushed himself off of the landing strut, slowly walking around the perimeter of the X-Wing, "Our government was founded on the backs of thieves, smugglers, and traitors. We had to work out all sorts of deals with shady criminals just to keep our ships from falling apart."

"Hell," Wedge continued. "Most of the first generation of Rogue Squadron were among the Empire's most wanted criminals. My wanted poster is still hanging on some Imperial worlds."

"I can understand why you and your comrades broke laws during the Rebellion," Lilea tucked set her flight helmet on the ground, zipping up the front of her orange flightsuit. "It was a different time-"

"I'm not sure if you truly understand the meaning of your squadron's name," Wedge interrupted. "Commander Narra and Commander Skywalker selected that identification for good reason. We were a collection of defectors and traitors, criminals and wanted men. We could generously be described as scum, but we all had one thing in common. Each one of us was committed to keeping those we loved safe and free from the Empire's iron fists."

"That commitment was very strong," Wedge continued as he slowly walked under the X-Wing and towards Lilea. "So strong that we were more than willing to break the rules in order to do what we felt was right. On more than one occasion that willingness caused us to call upon the services of a gentleman by the name of Booster Terrik. You might recognize him as the owner of this fine smuggler's den."

"I'm sure you've read about the Bacta War in your history texts," Wedge said. "What your texts don't show is what happened to Rogue Squadron during this time."

"The squadron records state that Rogue Squadron was assigned to the Warlord Zsinj taskforce," Lilea said, trying to recall the squadron history details she had studied months earlier.

"That's the official story," Wedge mused. "In reality, Rogue Squadron went…well, Rogue. We wanted to go chase after Isard, but High Command wanted us to report to General Solo's taskforce instead. We took a vote, and it was decided that we would all resign our commissions in the Alliance Navy and become an independent starfighter squadron."

"After we left the military, we realized that we needed starfighters and parts," Wedge explained. "That's where Booster and his daughter Mirax come in. One of our pilots had some…surplus capital at his disposal. We contracted with Booster and he scoured the black market looking for starfighter components for us. I have to hand it to him, he got the rogue Rogue Squadron up and operational in a handful of days."

"Booster had always been sympathetic to the Rebellion cause," Wedge said. "It might have had something to do with the fact that his daughter was dating one of my pilots, but my point still stands. Towards the tail-end of the Bacta War, Booster commandeered an Imperial Star Destroyer known as the Virulence. Now, he could have simply taken his prize and run away, but Booster chose to do something that I can only describe as crazy. He loaded that Star Destroyer with an entire compliment of A-Wing starfighters belonging to Airen Cracken's task force and took off for Thyferra where we were locked in combat with Isard's Super Star Destroyer Lusankya."

"The arrival of the Virulence tipped the scales in our favor that day," Wedge explained. "The Rogues survived another death trap, the Galaxy was a little safer, and it was thanks in large part to the heroics of one of the most recognized smugglers in the Galaxy. As part of his spoils, Booster got to keep the Virulence and rechristened it as the Errant Venture. Rogue Squadron rejoined the Alliance Navy and life went back to normal for a little while"

"So there you have it," Wedge said with a smile. "That's just one of Rogue Squadron's many tales involving rule breaking and shady dealings. If it hadn't been for Booster, Ysanne Isard would have crushed us and taken control of Thyferra's entire Bacta supply. Just remember this, Flight Officer Tromans. There's a lot of grey in the Galaxy. Very rarely can you find something that can be described strictly as good or evil. Smugglers thrive in that grey area, but you should never assume that every one of them is looking out only for themselves. Smugglers like Booster Terrik have the same goals that you and I have. In certain ways you should be envious of him. Booster doesn't have pesky laws and regulations stopping him from doing what he thinks is right."

***

* * *

Darvix raised his glass off Green Galaxy off the bar, admiring the glowing green hue and swirling bursts of light emitted by the alcoholic liquid. He had developed quite a taste for this particular beverage after Kasari had mixed one for him in an open bar on Taris. He wasn't sure if it was the slightly sweet taste or just the beautiful light show the drink emitted, but he knew that if the bartender could mix it, he would order it. Darvix took a small sip of the drink, letting the taste linger on his tongue for a moment before swallowing.

"I figured you to be more of a Corellian Brandy kind of person," Booster said.

"Oh don't get me wrong, Booster," Darvix smiled. "I'll never turn down a good shotglass of Corellian Reserve, but you don't run into a Green Galaxy this fine every day."

Darvix took another sip and set the glass back down on the bartop. Truth be told, he needed this drink in the worst way. For the past several days he had been wracking his brain trying to figure out what had happened on Jaminere. It made no sense. How could Alliance Intelligence have been so wrong? How could they not have known about the destruction of the Capitol City before the Rogues arrived? Why didn't they figure out that there wasn't any illegal slave trafficking occurring on the planet? Darvix was absolutely sure he was missing a piece of the puzzle.

"What do you need from me, Mr. Zorvan?" Booster asked, interrupting Darvix's train of thought.

"What makes you think I need anything from you?" Darvix asked. "Can't I buy you a drink as a gesture of goodwill?"

Booster offered a hearty laugh, "Like you're capable of showing anyone a gesture of goodwill. Spit it out son, what do you need?"

"Well…" Darvix glanced around the bar, ensuring that no one was within earshot of him, "I need you to put me in contact with Karrde."

"I take it you're looking for information?" Booster asked as he downed a mouthful of Corellian Ale.

"Alliance Intelligence made some very big mistakes," Darvix said. "I think they've become compromised as far as Jaminere goes. Something is happening in the shadows, and I want to know what it is."

"What should I tell him to look for?" Booster glanced at Darvix.

"I'm not sure…" Darvix admitted as he pulled out a folded sheet of flimsy from his breast pocket, placing it in front of Booster. "This Holonet frequency is heavily encrypted, so he should be able to contact me through it. In the meantime, have his people analyze Jaminere ship traffic and communication intercepts over the last month. Look for anything out of the ordinary."

"Anything else?"

Darvix thought for a moment, "Just one more thing. I want him to look into the background of Senator Adan Mentzer."


	18. Deception

**Chapter 16 – Deception**

Haruko Skobra shielded her eyes from the dust kicked up by the repulsorlifts of the large Corellian Engineering Action VI transport. For the last several hours cargo ships and transports had been landing just outside of the capitol city of Jaminere, each loaded with various medical supplies and emergency aid. How they managed to break through the blockade was a mystery to Haruko. No ships were to enter or leave the immediate space around the planet, yet here were these supply ships offloading everything from food to bacta. While the broken blockade may have been disturbing, Haruko found her commanding officer's reaction to be even more unnerving.

The moment the first ship had arrived Colonel Solo had begun to bark orders at the Rogues to assist with the offloading and distributing of supplies. It was almost as if she knew that these supplies were coming. For that matter, Colonel Solo had been acting odd for the last several days. Major Zorvan and Flight Officer Tromans had vanished on their patrol three days earlier, but Colonel Solo didn't seem the slightest bit concerned. She hadn't even bothered to send a patrol to look for them. What's worse was the behavior of the veteran Rogue Squadron pilots. They didn't ask questions even though they knew something was wrong. It seemed like they knew something she didn't. That was an unsettling feeling. Haruko didn't like to be left in the dark when others had answers.

As the offloading ramp lowered from the Action VI transport to the ground, Haruko approached the ship, looking up at the supply officer, "What's on board?"

"Four Bacta chambers and seven triage shelters," the supply officer replied. "We're in a bit of a rush, where do we take this stuff?"

"I need to know who's responsible for these shipments before I can allow you to offload," Haruko lied.

"That information is privy only to your commanding officer," the supply officer said flatly, "now do you want these medical supplies or should I tell my captain to take off?"

Haruko fumed silently. She could press the issue further, but she doubted Colonel Solo would approve of her holding up medical gear, "All of that gear should go to sector seven, about a quarter-klik to the west."

Haruko watched as the crew of the transport unloaded the gear, hauling it to the designated medical triage area as ordered by Colonel Solo. As Haruko was about to leave the transport, she heard the unmistakable sound of the quad engines of an X-Wing behind her. She watched as a pair of X-Wings landed in an open field not far from her. The pilot from the first X-Wing shot out of the cockpit like a laser blast, jumping to the ground and hurling his flight helmet to the side in a fit of anger as he stormed towards the pilot of the other X-Wing. Haruko squinted and raised her hand over her brow, trying to make out what was going on.

She realized it was Major Zorvan and Flight Officer Tromans. Zorvan was toe-to-toe with Tromans. Haruko could make out only a few choice curses from where she was standing, but it was painfully clear that her executive officer was not pleased with Lilea Tromans in the slightest. Zorvan's face was mere inches away from Haruko, his index finger pointing angrily at the greenhorn pilot. Haruko wondered idly what Lilea had done to earn Major Zorvan's wrath this time. For all she knew it was something extraordinarily trivial. It didn't take much to cause Major Zorvan to fly off the handle.

"I was listening in to the radio chatter and Zorvan and Lilea came in," Erim Zess said from behind Haruko.

"What did Lilea do?"

"Couldn't quite make it out," Erim said as he set the box of medical supplies he was carrying on the ground. "All I could hear was Zorvan swearing up a storm…mentioned something about shaky flightstick control briefly, 'I'll ship your sorry ass to a supply transport if you ever come that close to clipping my S-Foils again.'"

"Did he say anything about where they've been the last three days?" Haruko asked.

"Zorvan was too busy chewing Lilea out to mention it," Erim said, "though I'd imagine it's a fair bet to say he's the one who managed to con these supplies out of someone and worked out a way to sneak it around the blockade."

Haruko watched as Zorvan stormed away from the X-Wings, no doubt to try and find Colonel Solo. In his wake was a very distraught Flight Officer Tromans. She hadn't even bothered to take her flight helmet off and was now leaning against the forward landing strut of her X-Wing, staring at the ground below her. Haruko was almost tempted to talk to Lilea and try to console her.

Almost.

***

* * *

"How did you manage to pull this off?" Jaina asked, pausing in front of the entrance to the triage tent.

"Brokered a deal with Booster Terrik," Darvix replied as he tied the sleeves of his half-unzipped flightsuit around his waist. "Don't you worry, our hands are clean. I used a middle-man to handle the negotiations. As far as everyone else is concerned, Tromans and I had to spend three days limping back after our patrol because of issues with our sublight engines."

"How did you manage to get twenty transports around the blockade?"

"Mirax cooked up one of the nastiest series of hyperspace jumps I've ever seen," Darvix said as he walked into the triage tent. "It's going to take Alliance Intelligence weeks to figure out how a bunch of supply ships managed to sneak past their blockade."

"Anything else happen I should know about?" Jaina asked.

"I put out some feelers to try and get in touch with Talon Karrde," Darvix said as he slowly began to walk down the aisle of the triage station. There were beds on both sides of him, each one filled with a wounded Jaminerian. Nurses and doctors from Booster Terrik's vast network tended to the injured, giving them the treatment that they had needed for days.

"Any idea when we'll hear from Karrde?" Jaina asked as she sidestepped a nurse walking by.

Darvix shook his head, "I can't say, Colonel. The last time I spoke with Karrde was about seven years ago when I worked for him as a freelance information analyst. I don't know what he's up to these days or if he even has interest in getting in touch with me again."

"I see," Jaina said. "Good work, Major."

Darvix glanced over at Jaina, feeling somewhat surprised by the sudden compliment, "Thank you, ma'am."

The two Rogue Squadron senior officers continued to walk down the aisle of the triage tent. Officially, they were monitoring the efforts of the medical team and making sure their ill-gotten supplies were being put to good use. Darvix knew why they were really there, though. Neither one of them had to express aloud how concerned they were over the well-being of the citizens of the ruined Jaminere City. Neither one of them had to express how appalled they were by the destruction all around them. They needed to see for themselves that some good was finally happening amongst all of the chaos.

"Let go of me!" the shout of a young woman in a bed nearby Darvix caught his attention. As he looked to his left, he saw a nurse and a doctor trying to restrain a badly bruised girl who looked to be in her late teens.

"What's going on?" Darvix asked as he approached the bed, arms folded across his chest.

The Mon Calamari nurse looked away from the patient to Darvix for a moment, "She refuses to let us treat her."

"Young lady I assure you that…" Darvix trailed off as he took a good look at the girl. She looked extremely battered. Bruises covered her arms. Her left eye had been blackened. What caught Darvix's attention, however, was her jet black hair and the deep green color of her eyes. Darvix pushed past the nurse and the doctor, kneeling at the side of the girl's bed and grasping her shoulders. "What's your name?"

The girl responded simply by spitting in Darvix's face.

"It's Kessila, isn't it?" Darvix asked, completely unfazed.

The girl froze, seemingly startled that Darvix had guessed her name correctly, "Who the hell are you?"

"While you're at it, would you care to explain how the hell you know this girl?" Jaina asked.

Darvix opened his mouth to speak before suddenly realizing the awkward position he was in. How should he explain this? Darvix reached behind his neck and undid the clasp of the necklace that held his military-issued silver identification tags in place. He held the tags in front of the girl, "I'm Darvix Zorvan, your mother's younger brother…or I'm your uncle, as it were."

"Ground control to Major Zorvan," Jaina said, grabbing Darvix by the shoulder and hauling him up to his feet. "You've officially lost it, Major. I'm giving you thirty seconds to explain yourself before _I_ confine you to one of these beds."

"Sixteen years ago I put out some feelers," Darvix explained. "This was right after I had defected from Imperial controlled territory to the New Republic. I wanted to keep tabs on my older sister who I had left behind. I found out a little later that she had given birth do a girl-" Darvix gestured to the girl in the triage bed "About six years ago I found a holoimage of her."

Darvix turned to the girl, "The image may be of a much younger you, but I have no doubt that I'm right about this. Your name is Kessila Zorvan, born to Skyine Zorvan on twelfth of Telona, thirteen ABY. Am I correct?"

The girl nodded, "You are…but call me Kessila again and I'll rip out your trachea and hang you with it. It's Kess."

Darvix grinned, looking back at his commanding officer, "I like her."

"The familial similarities are uncanny," Jaina muttered.

"So," Darvix said, "Where's Skyine…I mean, where is your mother?"

"She's dead," Kess replied flatly.

It felt as if someone had punched Darvix in the jaw and kneed him in the stomach for good measure. He sat down at the foot of Kess' bed, covering his mouth with his hands. He felt physically ill, "How…?"

"When I was two years old she contracted the FNV-23 virus," Kess said quietly, looking away from Darvix.

FNV-23. Darvix buried his face in his hands. He knew about that virus all too well. It was a deadly virus that had been created by the Empire and tested on entire planets. Virus may have been putting it mildly; it was really a biological weapon. Long after the testing had stopped cases of FNV-23 were occasionally reported throughout the Imperial Remnant. If it wasn't caught early, the virus was extraordinarily deadly. One world hit particularly hard was Darvix's birthworld of Nar Shaddaa. As a boy, he had contracted FNV-23. While it was caught fast enough to save Darvix's life, it wasn't quick enough to save his eyesight. For half of his life he would be forced to use cybernetic eye implants before receiving a set of medically cloned organic human eyes.

"It's funny, you know," Kess murmured. "Turns out that many of the wealthy citizens of Nar Shaddaa stayed loyal to the Empire long after we became subject of the New Republic. That included the doctors. I guess that was why no one would help mom. She was the sister of some damn, dirty defector. Not worth their time."

"How did you end up here?" Jaina asked.

"I didn't have much of a choice," Kess explained. "My grandmother and grandfather raised me for a while after my mother died. Don't bother asking about my father, I never knew him…"

Darvix felt his stomach sink, "But, mother…your grandmother died fourteen years ago."

"Murdered, you mean," Kess corrected. "If my grandfather hadn't shown up when he did to pull me out of that burning building, I would have died as well."

This was coming at Darvix too fast. Fourteen years ago he had been on assignment to Nar Shaddaa as a member of Rogue Squadron. One fateful night he did something that he would never live down and would regret for the rest of his life. Darvix's mother had always been loyal to the Empire, so loyal that she betrayed her Jedi husband during the Jedi Purge at the end of the Clone Wars. When Darvix had discovered what his mother had done, he murdered the woman and set her house ablaze.

_No! NO!_ Darvix said to himself. Skyine was supposed to have escaped long before that. How could she still have been on Nar Shaddaa? Darvix knew that wasn't the real issue. What had he done? He hadn't simply committed a horrible crime fourteen years ago, he destroyed the life of the girl laying in the triage bed. How had he not known she was there? Darvix had been in that house. He should have known Kess was there.

Of course, had he been thinking rationally, had he not been flirting with the dark side of the Force in that moment of his life, his mother would still be alive. If he hadn't screwed up, the battered girl in front of him wouldn't be an orphan.

"Grandfather passed away when I was fourteen," Kess continued. "At that point there was nothing left for me on Nar Shaddaa. That's not a world for children who grow up alone."

"What did you do at that point?" Jaina had taken over asking the questions.

"I smuggled myself onboard a supply freighter," Kess said. "I didn't know where it was going, but it had to be better than Nar Shaddaa. A few days later I found myself here on Jaminere. For the last two years I've been getting by. It's tough to be homeless, but it was easier to be homeless here than it was where I came from."

"I think that will be enough questioning," Jaina said, casting a stern look at Darvix. "Major, if you'll kindly take a walk with me.

Darvix nodded and stood up, walking with Jaina outside of the triage tent. He looked back at Kess as he left.

_I know it was you,_ she mouthed.

***

* * *

Jaina tried as hard as he could to remain calm as she prepared to interrogate her executive officer, "I need you to be completely upfront and honest with me, Major."

"Excuse me, ma'am?" Darvix looked confused.

"You knew your niece was here on Jaminere, didn't you?" Jaina asked.

"…I suspected it, yes," Darvix admitted. "One of the first things I did when I came on board the _Mon Mothma_ was look into the current whereabouts of my sister and Kess. I couldn't find anything on Skyine, but I ran across some surveillance holos that showed Kess was here."

"You're the one who got Rogue Squadron assigned to this mission, aren't you?" Jaina was beginning to grow increasingly agitated.

"Yes, ma'am," Darvix said quietly. "I sent a message to Senator Mentzer offering to investigate the slave trafficking claims shortly after I discovered Kess was here."

"You manipulative bastard!" Jaina cursed, her face moving within inches of Darvix's. "You _knew_ this squadron wasn't ready for active assignment but you volunteered us anyways just so you could have an excuse to look for Kess yourself!"

"Colonel, I-"

"Shove it, Zorvan," Jaina spat. "You've got to be the most selfish, self-righteous ass I've ever worked with. I've got a unit full of rookie pilots and you put them in jeopardy so you could go on another one of your merry adventures. It's one thing for you to go on these idiotic quests, it's another thing entirely for you to drag fifteen others with you."

"…I'm sorry," Darvix softly replied.

"I bet you say that a lot, though I wonder if you've ever meant it," Jaina said, turning her back to Darvix and walking away. "You're a piece of work, Zorvan."

Jaina walked back to the camp where the other Rogues where, not paying Darvix another thought. It was about time someone called him out.

***

* * *

Captain Reyov Naolin tapped his fingers atop the arm rest of his command chair. Things were progressing smoothly, but not at the pace he wanted. Coruscant stood all but undefended. Taking it would require little effort if he could just keep the enemy distracted for a while longer. He knew the Galactic Alliance fleet had been decimated by the Yuuzhan Vong War. All it would take was one conflict to spread their fleet dangerously thin. At that moment, they would seize Coruscant.

Thirteen years ago he had been part of an Imperial Remnant task force assigned to retake Coruscant from the hands of the Rebels. His men had designed a cloaking device designed to fit into the internal housing of a standard Imperial TIE starfighter design. For three years his Phantom TIE Fighters wreaked havoc on critical outposts belonging to the enemy. As his fleet staged one final push into Coruscant, they were stopped in their tracks by a single squadron of Rebel X-Wings. His command ship was destroyed and he barely escaped with his wife.

In the years since the Imperial Remnant had gone soft. Captain Naolin was forced to take matters into his own hands. Splintering off from the Empire, he stole a squadron of TIE Defenders and a Star Destroyer and recommissioned it as the _Ender II_. It had taken him nearly a year, but now he was ready to do what the Empire wouldn't. He was going to take back Coruscant in the name of Emperor Palpatine. All that stood in Captain Naolin's way now was a single status report. If the news was good, the operation could begin within the week.

"…and it appears that the blockade around Jaminere has consumed the majority of the Rebel's remaining fleet," the man standing before Captain Naolin said. "Coruscant is completely vulnerable."

"Thank you, Senator Mentzer," Captain Naolin said. "I suspect that one more attack on Jaminere will be enough for the Rebels to commit the rest of their forces there."

"No doubt, sir," Senator Mentzer replied.

Captain Naolin pressed his hands together and held them in front of his mouth, "I'll have a flight of Phantom TIE Defenders and their support vessel deployed immediately. You return to the Senate as soon as possible.

"Yes, sir," Senator Mentzer said, turning on his heels and walking off the bridge.

Naolin smiled. He was thankful that Senator Adan Mentzer was still loyal to the Empire. He had sacrificed the planet he represented in order to clear the way for the _Ender II_ to retake Coruscant. As the Rebels surrounded Jaminere to try and determine just what had happened, Coruscant would be left completely undefended. It would be a simple matter of devising a hyperspace route to avoid detection and the former seat of the Galactic Empire was theirs.

But for now, there was still some preparation work to take care of. He keyed the comlink built into his command chair, "Prepare Alpha Flight for immediate deployment. Their orders are to conduct a hit-and-fade the Jaminere surface. Eliminate all opposition."


	19. Consequences

**Chapter 17 – Consequences**

Lilea Tromans sighed as she wrapped her hands around the flightstick of her X-Wing. _The flightstick is merely an extension of yourself_ she repeated in her mind. The day prior she had been flying in formation with Major Zorvan, returning to the surface of Jaminere. While making their final atmospheric approach, she had pushed the flightstick too far and had nearly clipped the S-Foils of Major Zorvan's X-Wing. He was absolutely livid with her. When they had landed, he approached Lilea and put together a string of curses that no one had ever said to her before.

She was determined to get better. Only a few months earlier she had been on the verge of getting drummed out of starfighter command. In the span of only a year she had been bounced out of six different squadrons. She knew as well as anyone that Rogue Squadron was her last chance to make it as a pilot. If this didn't pan out, it was all over. Lilea would be piloting transport shuttles for the rest of her career. That wasn't going to happen. She closed her eyes and practiced easy, controlled motions with the flightstick, trying to engrain the feeling into her muscles.

"Enjoying yourself?" Kasari Lisae asked as she leaned against cockpit of Lilea's X-Wing.

Lilea's eyes snapped open, "Kasari! I didn't even notice you were there."

"The whole being a Jedi thing comes in handy every now and then," Kasari smiled.

"Is there something I can do for you?" Lilea asked.

"For me, no" Kasari said. "I just came here to check up on you. Looked like the good Major gave you an earful yesterday."

Lilea frowned and looked away from Kasari, suddenly finding her flightstick to be the most fascinating thing in the Galaxy, "I can't say I blame him. Trying to deal with a lost cause would grate on the nerves of most people."

Lilea was surprised when Kasari burst into a fit of laughter. "Lost cause?" Kasari asked. "Tromans, you should be worried if Dap starts ignoring you. That's when you know you're a lost cause."

"It's not funny, Kasari," Lilea said.

"Tromans, I've known the Major for ten years now," Kasari explained. "I was his first and only padawan while we were with the Jedi Academy. I can say with some authority that Dap expects the universe from his students. The mere fact that he's taken you under his wing means that he's spotted some serious potential in you."

"He's an ass who has no sense of tact, sure," Kasari continued, "but he also one of the finest teachers you'll ever find. He knows how to get the most from his students and let's be honest. If you can deal with his verbal jabs, what the hell do you have to be afraid of?"

Lilea laughed a bit. She really did appreciate Kasari coming to talk to her.

Out of the blue, the sensor panel on Lilea's flight console lit up. The warning alarm began to sound as her hands flew to the screen, calling up the data her sensors were picking up, "Sithspit we've got unknown contacts coming in."

"Transponder codes?" Kasari asked.

"The computer is identifying them as Imperial," Lilea said. "That's impossible. The Remnant hasn't left their space since the end of the war."

"No time to argue," Kasari said. "Get your sublights lit up."

Kasari jumped down from the X-Wing to send out a scramble order. Lilea grabbed her flight helmet and placed it over her head, locking the chinstrap into place. She began the process of powering on her X-Wings. Heat elements on. Sublight power-on sequence started. Avionics functional. This was it. This was her first chance to face live combat. A small part of her was frightened, but adrenaline quickly wiped that fear away. She was going to make the most of this opportunity.

"Lead this is Eleven," Darvix's voice rang through her helmet-mounted speakers. "I'm having some trouble getting my sublight engines online. Looks like I'm going to be a few minutes late to the party."

"Lead, this is Three," Inyri was the next to speak out. "Same problem here. They're coming online but the startup sequence is lagging."

"I read," Jaina replied over the radio. "What do you want to do?"

"Have Zess and Tromans pair up," Darvix replied. "Tromans, I want you to fly pair lead. I'll be up as fast as I can."

"Acknowledged," Jaina said. "Forge, you're on Zorvan's wing. He'll fly lead. Reorganize your flight when you get the chance."

"Copy that," Inyri said. "We'll see you soon. Good hunting."

"Tromans?" Darvix asked.

Lilea toggled the canopy switch, causing the transparisteel shield to lower over the cockpit, "I read, Major."

"You're going to do fine," Darvix said.

Lilea smiled slightly as she triggered her repulsorlifts. Her X-Wing rose above the ground and shifted forward to clear a path for departure. She placed her left hand over the throttle and paused for a moment. Yes, she was going to make the most of this opportunity. Lilea threw the throttle to full and yanked back on the flightstick, heading towards the combat zone.

***

* * *

Darvix gritted his teeth as he waited for his sublight engines to green-light. There were times he hated his new X-Wing. The Incom Corporation had made several changes to the 4L4 fusial thrust engines over the years, bringing the XJ series X-Wing significantly more speed than its older T-65 predecessors. Unfortunately those performance increases had come at the expense of startup time. These new sublight engines took significantly longer to bring online than the sublight drives on his old T-65 AC4 X-Wing did. To most people, an additional two or three minutes of startup time didn't seem like much. To a starfighter pilot, that was an eternity.

"Four lit and in the green," Inyri said over the radio. "Anytime now, Zorvan."

"Almost…hang on," Darvix breathed out a sigh of relief as the engine diagram on his flight console finally flashed green. "Four lit and in the green. You sure you're up to this?"

"Just try and keep up," Inyri replied.

Darvix pulled back on his flightstick, aiming the nose of his X-Wing to the sky. Without hesitation he pushed the throttle to full, accelerating through Jaminere's atmosphere. He began to call up sensor data onto one of the displays mounted in his console. Something strange was going on. He hadn't seen an Imperial transponder code in over a decade, there was no reason for the Remnant to stray so far into Alliance territory. Darvix's X-Wing cleared the atmosphere, giving way to the star-punctuated backdrop of space.

"I don't have visual!" a voice said over the radio. "Going evasive!"

"I don't see a damn thing," Ace said. "I've got enemy fire everywhere but I don't have visual contact!"

Darvix scanned over the scene in front of him. Green laser fire seemed to appear out of nowhere. The other Rogues had gone into a defensive formation, trying to avoid the enemy fire. Darvix looked over the sensor data but was unable to find any kind of a enemy starfighter to lock onto. What the hell was going on here? Slowly, realization began to hit him. He had seen this before. It had been nearly fifteen years since he had last seen it.

"Sithspit!" Darvix cursed. "Cloaking devices."

"Eleven, ten o'clock high," Inyri said. "Is it just me or is there something funny about that shuttle?"

Looking up, Darvix caught sight of a Lambda-class shuttle out in the distance. He pulled it up on his targeting computer, "Nothing out of the…wait. I'm picking up some odd transmission signals coming from it."

"Doesn't look like they've noticed us yet, what do we do?" Inyri asked.

"Take the shuttle out," Darvix said as he pulled his flightstick down and to the left. "Arm a pair of proton torpedoes. I want this thing gone in one pass."

"Acknowledged, I'm on your wing."

Darvix set his X-Wing's sublight engines to full power, squaring up his targeting brackets on the shuttle. The brackets began to flash yellow, accompanied by an electronic beep to signal the targeting computer was working out a lock to transmit to his proton torpedoes. Three beeps. Darvix tensed his hand around the flightstick, tapping his finger against the trigger. Four beeps. Almost there, just a few more moments. Five beeps, then a solid tone. The brackets changed to a solid red color, indicating a target lock had been worked out. He squeezed the trigger. Two blue streaks left his X-Wing and raced towards the shuttle.

"Torpedoes aweigh, breaking hard to port," Darvix sad as he threw his flightstick to the left.

"Torpedoes aweigh, I'm on your wing," Inyri followed up.

He watched as the torpedoes struck the shuttle, breaking through its meager shields to pierce its hull. The shuttle burst into a ball of flame and durasteel. Almost immediately red blips began to appear in the forward and aft sensors of his X-Wing. The ships that had been cloaked were cloaked no more. Darvix quickly cycled through his target list. Ten TIE Defenders marked as hostiles. Sixteen X-Wings marked as friendlies. He breathed a sigh of relief. All of Rogue Squadron had survived to this point.

"Eleven I've got one spotted about a klik off, engaging in pursuit," Inyri said.

"Acknowledged, Three," Darvix responded as he pulled back on his throttle. "Take the point, I'm your wing."

Darvix dropped back and allowed Inyri to take the lead of the formation (or the "point"), "I'm switching over to cannons, setting fire mode to single-burst spray."

"Heyo! I got one!" Lilea's voice ringed through the radio. "I got one!"

"Confirmed," Pash responded. "One TIE Defender silhouette for the greenhorn's hull."

Darvix smiled to himself as he put a little distance between himself and Inyri. The TIE Defender they were chasing neared their sights. His targeting brackets flashed green and Darvix depressed the trigger, sending a rapid-fire stream of red laser fire at the defender. He pulled hard right on the flightstick to set up for another pass as Inyri let loose with her own barrage of fire. Moments later one of the three wing arrays of the TIE-Defender snapped free, causing the ship to spin wildly out of control before ultimately breaking apart.

"Three has a confirmed kill," Darvix said.

"Eleven with the assist," Inyri noted. "What's our status?"

Colonel Solo reported in, "Just a few stragglers left to take care of, we should be able to-"

"Sithspawn, I've got one on my six!" Lilea yelled. "Seven, where are you!?"

"Sorry, Thirteen," Erim Zess replied. "Too hot in there for me, you're on your own."

If it wasn't for the sinking feeling in Darvix's stomach, he probably would have felt appalled. No Rogue ever left a wingman like that, "Rogue Seven you get your ass back in there and give thirteen some cover fire. I'll be there in thirty seconds to assist."

"Sorry, Major," Zess said. "I know when I'm in over my head."

"That's an order, Seven!" Darvix barked as he altered his flightpath to intercept Lilea's pursuer. "Hold that Defender off!"

"Unlike you, I don't have a death wish."

Darvix slammed the side of his cockpit with his fist, "Three, form up on Seven and make sure he doesn't try to make a run for it. If he tries to leave the skirmish, cripple his engines."

"I copy," Darvix could hear the anger in Inyri's voice. "I almost hope he tries."

Darvix clenched his teeth together as he shunted power away from his shields to his engines. He could see Lilea's X-Wing and the TIE Defender pursuing it. Her shields were quickly failing and before long the enemy laser hits would be piercing the X-Wing's hull. He had to act fast. Darvix didn't need to destroy the enemy ship so much as he needed to distract it. If he could just get it to break off its pursuit one of the other Rogues could take care of it.

"Thirteen, when I give the signal I need you to break hard up," Darvix said. "Do you understand?"

"I can't shake him, Major! I can't shake him!" Lilea was growing increasingly panicked.

"Calm down!" Darvix said. "Just pull back hard when I give the signal!"

He needed more speed. Darvix canceled out power to his laser canons and weapons systems, redistributing it to his engines. That was all the speed he would be able to coax out of his X-Wing. He barreled towards the TIE Defender, making minute adjustments to his flightpath as he screamed closer and closer to it. All he had to do was hit the space between Lilea and the Defender.

"Ready," Darvix said, "Break hard!"

Lilea's X-Wing pulled upwards as his own X-Wing shot in between the gap. Immediately, Darvix knew that he had made a mistake. The TIE-Defender panicked and veered upwards, right into Lilea's X-Wing. The impact sheared off the front-half of her ship's fuselage. Thankfully power to her engines cut out at that moment, leaving her ship stranded in the cold vacuum of space.

***

* * *

"Zone, keep us within ten meters of Tromans," Darvix said as he began undoing the straps holding him into his flightseat. "I'm going extravehicular."

It had only been six minutes since the collision, but Darvix was beginning to panic. Even through the TIE Defenders had been destroyed, he knew something was very, very wrong. Lilea had not responded since her ship had been hit. It could be something as simple as her radio being damaged. It could be something far worse. Darvix pulled off the life support mask from his belt, placing it over his face and snapping it into place on his flight helmet. He needed to check up on Lilea and make sure she was okay.

He keyed in the command to vent the atmosphere out of his cockpit, bracing himself for the cold vacuum of space. Going extravehicular was something no pilot wanted to experience. If a pilot went EV, typically it meant something had gone horribly, horribly wrong. Darvix hoped that wasn't the case here. The moment the pressure in his cockpit equalized, he pressed the button to open the cockpit canopy.

"Be careful, Major" Colonel Solo said over the radio. "We'll keep you covered."

Darvix floated out of the cockpit, keeping a hold of the hull of his X-Wing. He carefully pushed himself down to the bottom of his starfighter where he attached a tether between himself and his X-Wing. As he positioned himself properly, he took a good look at Lilea's X-Wing. The starboard S-Foils had been sheared off along with the forward section of her fuselage. Thankfully, he could still make out some lights from inside the cockpit, meaning life support was still active. Darvix took a steadying breath and pushed himself off of his X-Wing.

He smacked into Lilea's ship with a thud. Darvix shook his head to regain his bearings, "Tromans, are you there?"

"Is that you, Major?" a very weak sounding Lilea replied.

"I'm here, just thought I'd pay you a visit on the job," Darvix replied as he carefully shimmied his way to the top of her X-Wing.

"I'm not feeling so good, Major," Lilea was beginning to sound weaker and weaker.

Darvix tried his best suppress the growing pit in his stomach, "You probably whacked your head on something during that collision. Nothing a few days off won't take care of.

He pulled himself onto the top of the X-Wing and edged his way towards the canopy. Of all the gruesome things he had seen over the years, nothing could have prepared him for this. The impact of the collision had caused part of the flight console to shear off from the cockpit and imbed itself through Lilea's torso and into the seat behind her. Blood had begun to pool in and around her flightseat.

"I can't feel my legs," Lilea said, a bit of alarm in her voice.

"I'm sure that will pass," Darvix lied. "Listen, I need to get you out of there. Our transport shuttle is on route to pick you up. I'm going to…"

Darvix's heart sank as his hand made contact with the canopy. The frame was jammed and fused to the hull surrounding it. He wouldn't be able to use either the electronic or manual release. If he didn't act quickly no one would be able to save Lilea.

"Lilea, I'm going to go back to my X-Wing so I can get my lightsaber," Darvix reassured her. "I'll be back as…"

He trailed off as his radio filled with the sound of humming. It was a children's nursery song that he hadn't heard in years. As Darvix looked down, he saw that Lilea was the one humming, occasionally singing a few weak lyrics. Idly, Darvix recognized that she was slipping in and out of coherent thought. She wasn't going to make it. Lilea was already too far gone. There was no way he could get her extracted from the X-Wing and transported to a bacta chamber in time to save her life.

By now her voice had become exceptionally weak. She could only manage to whisper the lyrics of the song. Looking into the cockpit, Darvix saw the pale image of his wingman, her expression changing from confused to frightened. He placed his hand on the cold transparisteel of the cockpit and closed his eyes, stretching out with the Force to touch Lilea. Darvix opened his mouth to sing the last verse of the song.

He opened his eyes and looked into the cockpit after he had finished the final verse. Lilea sat still, unmoving. Her eyes were closed, a serene expression rested upon her face. The Force could be used for a great many things. It was a weapon of defense, a barrier from danger. Most of all, it was a comforter. Darvix could take small solace I knowing that Flight Officer Lilea Tromans' final moments had at least been peaceful.

***

* * *

"You bastard!" Inyri yelled as she grabbed Erim Zess by the flightsuit collar, pinning him against his X-Wing. "That was a direct order and you blew it off!"

"I don't know about you, but I didn't feel like dieing today," Erim said.

"I bet Lilea didn't either," Pash Cracken said as he boxed Erim against his X-Wing. "All you had to do was circle around and provide thirty seconds of cover fire."

Cheriss ke Hanadi appeared on the other side of Inyri, "I'm not sure what that makes you, Zess. Selfish? A Coward? Probably both."

"MOVE IT!" Jaina Solo yelled as she pushed her pilots away from Zess. She wasted no time closing the gap between them. The moment she was within an arm's length of the greenhorn she brought her fist back and laid a punch square across his jaw. Never had she been so furious with one of her pilots. Just for good measure, she delivered another punch to his stomach.

"You disobeyed a direct order to assist your fellow squadronmate despite the fact you were in the best position to offer assistance," Jaina said. "I have never seen such a brazen act of cowardice in my life. Let me just say you're lucky it's me and not Major Zorvan who's standing here right now. I would hate to see what he would do to you."

Jaina reached for the Rogue Squadron patch on Zess' flightsuit and tore it off, "You're a disgrace to this unit, Zess. As of now you are hereby dismissed from Rogue Squadron and stripped of your commission as an officer of the Galactic Alliance Navy. As soon as this blockade is over I'll tell High Command to come back here and retrieve you."

"You will never fly for this unit or our military again," Jaina said, finally releasing Zess. "Get him out of here."

Jaina turned her back to Zess and walked away, leaving her pilots alone with the disgraced former Rogue. Sometimes a commanding officer knew when it was best to look the other way, and this was one of those times. As she walked towards shelter she caught sight of Major Zorvan, still sitting in his X-Wing, his head bowed. At that moment the anger Jaina had been feeling was replaced by an overwhelming sense of sorrow, both for the loss of Lilea and for her executive officer, who was not coping well with her death. Jaina climbed up the ladder situated against the cockpit of Darvix's starfighter and climbed up.

"Major, are you alright?" Jaina asked.

"I've been better, Colonel," Darvix replied quietly, not bothering to look up from the floor of his X-Wing.

Jaina paused for a moment before placing a hand on her executive officer's shoulder, "Lilea's mother lives here. I need to go tell her what happened, but I'd appreciate it if you came with me. I understand if you're not up to it, though."

"…Give me a few minutes, Colonel," Darvix said. "I should be the one who tells her."

***

* * *

An hour later Darvix and Jaina were standing in front of an emergency shelter that had been setup for the Jaminere citizens who had been displaced by the attack on the capitol city. In front of them was Ilysa Tromans, mother of the late Lilea. Jaina knew that the conversation they were about to have with Ilysa would be extraordinarily difficult. She had never had to deliver a message like this before, but she had watched her own commanding officers over the years struggle with it. Former Rogue Squadron commanding officer Tycho Celchu had once confided in her that this was the most difficult part of his job, worse than the rigors of flying a deadly combat vessel.

Darvix had insisted that they wear their dress uniforms, which Jaina agreed was the proper thing to do. The long walk had been extremely uncomfortable. Darvix hadn't muttered a word and Jaina wasn't sure what to say to him. She could tell that he was torn up inside. No doubt he felt completely responsible for the loss of his wingman and student. If she were in his position, she would no doubt feel the same way. Losing someone under your command was a horrible feeling.

"Mrs. Tromans…" Darvix began, closing his eyes for a moment to compose himself, "It is with deep regret and sadness that I inform you of your daughter's death. Lilea was killed in action today at 0943 hours."

Ilysa stared dumbfounded at Darvix, "Lilea's…"

"We were responding to a hostile signal and the situation escalated to a full-on skirmish," Darvix explained, his voice wavering. "Lilea's starfighter was involved in a collision with an enemy target. She survived the initial collision, but was gravely wounded by shrapnel. Just prior to the accident she had notched her first combat victory, which she was very proud of."

"I was with her until the end," Darvix continued, pausing for a moment as he took a steadying breath. "She passed away peacefully. Mrs. Tromans, I… Lilea was an extremely talented individual with all the potential in the Galaxy. I truly believed that she had the skillset and the motivation to be a very special pilot. It was an honor to fly alongside her and I am going to miss her greatly. I'm…I'm so sorry for your loss."

"You promised you'd keep her safe!" Ilysa exclaimed, tears pouring down her cheeks as she sobbed. With balled fists she pounded on Darvix's chest, taking out her anger and sorrow on him.

Jaina gently pulled Ilysa away from Darvix when it became clear that he wasn't going to stop her, "Mrs. Tromans I know it isn't much consolation, but I want you to know that Lilea was perhaps the most dedicated pilot in our unit. We all miss her greatly." She cast a sympathetic glance towards Darivx. "Major Zorvan and I need to return to our unit, but please contact us if there is anything we can do for you."

As hard as it was for Jaina to leave Ilysa Tromans behind, she knew that it was even harder for Darvix. She didn't need the Force to know how emotionally battered he was feeling.

***

* * *

Nightfall had brought the return of heavy rain to Rogue Squadron's camp. Jaina had just finished debriefing a very sober collection of Rogue Squadron pilots. Some had gone off to tend to their responsibilities, others had returned to their tents in a vain effort to fall asleep. There was one pilot Jaina was especially concerned about. Her executive officer hadn't reported to debriefing and she hadn't been heard from since returning from the emergency civilian shelters. He was taking this hard, and Jaina couldn't blame him.

She stopped by her tent for a moment, picking up a small bag and throwing it over her shoulder. Jaina wandered the camp for a while, partly lost in her own thoughts and partly trying to find Major Zorvan. She found him sitting atop the starboard S-Foils of his X-Wing, drenched in rainwater and looking sullenly out into the distance. Jaina genuinely felt bad for him. She knew that he felt the entire situation was his fault and that he should have done something to prevent it, even though so much of what happened was far outside of his control. Jaina shook her head and quietly climbed atop the S-Foils, taking a seat behind him.

"We all make that mistake, you know," Jaina said as she looked off into the distance. "Senior officers, I mean."

Darvix didn't respond, allowing Jaina to continue, "We promise the Galaxy that we'll keep the pilots under our command safe. No harm will ever come to them while we're in charge. Sometimes…sometimes there's nothing you can do."

"Lilea was a good pilot," Jaina said. "She had a lot to learn, but she was well on her way. A few years from now we might have spoken of her in the same reverence we give to fliers like Zev Senesca and Ten Numb…She was going to be brilliant."

"Unfortunately fate decided to step in and change all of that," Jaina reached into the bag she had brought and procured a bottle of Whyren's Reserve that she had smuggled along with her. "You did the best you could, Major." Jaina popped the top off of the bottle and took a long swig. "What happened today wasn't your fault."

She offered the bottle to Darvix, "To Lilea."

Darvix looked at Jaina for a moment before taking the bottle, "To Lilea."

The two highest ranking Rogue Squadron officers sat silent for a long while, looking out into the distance and drinking from the bottle of Whyren's as the rain continued to fall on top of them.


	20. Going Rogue

**Chapter 18 – Going Rogue**

Darvix found himself sitting at the edge of Kessila's bed. The doctors had finally been able to treat her wounds and she was looking a good deal healthier. Some of the bruises remained, but the cuts and scrapes she had sustained in the initial attack on Jaminere's capitol city had healed. Hearing that she was recovering and doing well was the best news he had heard in what seemed like an eternity. The day before the doctors had moved her to another tent where patients were recovering from injuries.

He glanced at Kessila. He could see she was awake, but had no interest in speaking with him.

"I know you don't want to talk to me," Darvix said as he looked up at the ceiling of the shelter. "I can't say I blame you either. I just want you to hear me out."

Darvix let out a heavy sigh, "I know you suspect that I'm the one that killed your grandmother. You're absolutely right, it was me. I don't know how you figured it out, but you're right… I'm not going to try and justify what I did or try to explain it away. What I did to your grandmother fourteen years ago was horrible."

"What's worse is that my actions put you into this situation," Darvix continued. "That's why I have to make this right. I'm going to get you out of here, and I'm going to make sure you're taken care of. If you wish to stay with me, I will be more than happy to take you in. If not, I will find someone who can look after you."

"It's my fault you're in this mess," Darvix rubbed the back of his neck. He wasn't used to being this upfront and honest with someone. "But for now I'm here for you. If you have anything you want to ask me or if you just want to yell at me for a while, feel free."

The two sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes. He continued to stare at the floor, unsure of what more to say or what to do. Had he made a mistake in coming to speak with her? She clearly wanted nothing to do with him. He could have just as easily made arrangements for her from the shadows and spared her the grief of having to put up with him. Maybe he should just leave. The poor girl had gone through enough already, the last thing she needed was to deal with him.

"…Why did you do it?" Kess asked quietly.

Darvix glanced at her and pondered that question himself. Why did he do it? "I suppose to properly explain why I did it I have to give you a little background about our family."

He reached for his belt and removed his lightsaber, flipping the toggle switch and activating the green blade with a snap-hiss, "Our family descends from a long lineage of Jedi Knights. I've traced our ancestry back about four-thousand years to a Jedi named Atton Rand and his wife who is known through the historical texts simply as the Jedi Exile."

"Of course that's another conversation entirely to have at another time," Darvix deactivated the lightsaber. "In any case, members of our family served the Jedi for generations and generations…Then came the extermination order from Emperor Palpatine."

"What does this have to do with my grandmother?" Kess asked.

"Your grandmother was extremely loyal to the Emperor and Imperial ideology," Darvix explained, "and at the time she was married to a Jedi Knight, my biological father. She had bought into the propaganda Palpatine had spread about the Jedi so much so that her loyalty to the Empire ended up outweighing the love of her husband. She would kill him one night with a blaster and turn his body over to the authorities."

"I found out about this fourteen years ago, the last time I was assigned to Rogue Squadron," Darvix continued. "We had just been assigned to Nar Shadaa to find a Sienar Fleet Systems engineer. Another pilot in the squadron by the name of Corran Horn happened to be a Jedi Knight who had trained at Luke Skywalker's academy. He…happened to notice that I was Force Sensitive and began to train me as a Jedi."

"Not long after that I was forced to hide out at your grandmother's home," Darvix idly held out his hand, holding his lightsaber out in midair with the Force. "That night I stumbled onto a footlocker that belonged to your biological grandfather. In it was a lightsaber and an old, encrypted holocron."

Darvix shook his head, he needed to get to the point, "I confronted your grandmother about what I had found later, demanding to know where the lightsaber had come from. She told me that it had belonged to my father and that he was a Jedi Knight. She then told me what she had done, that she had killed him in accordance with the Emperor's extermination order."

"Kess…" he paused, trying to find the words to explain what had happened all those years ago. "The Force was such a new thing to me. I wasn't prepared for the responsibility it brought… When your grandmother told me what she had done I could feel the Force consuming me. When a Jedi feels the Force that strongly but cannot suppress their anger…Well, bad things happen."

"I lost control of myself that day," He said, his voice wavering. "I let my anger combine with the Force and I let it consume me. I ignored the rational part of myself and let my feelings control my actions. It's not an excuse for what I did that day, when I killed your grandmother…It's just part of the explanation."

"That day I acted impulsively and made an enormous mistake," Darvix looked to the floor again, unable to look Kessila in the eyes, "and because of that mistake I destroyed your life. For that I am truly sorry. I'm here now to ask you to give me a chance to set things right. You don't have to forgive me, you don't even have to accept my help, I just ask that you give me a chance. I'm going to ask someone to come here and take you off-world to a place you'll be safe.

"After all of this I'll be more than happy to take you in," Darvix said quietly, "but you don't have to take me up on that."

"…I'll think about it," Kess said.

Darvix nodded. He looked at Kess once more before standing, softly patting her on the shoulder before walking out. He was going to make this right. He would fix the mess he had caused.

***

* * *

Darvix tapped his fingers against the conference table in the meeting room aboard the _Wild Karrde_. He had been in here once before during the time he was with the Jedi Academy. The New Republic had hired him to serve as a negotiator in an information purchase from Talon Karrde. In typical fashion, he had done a laughable job of negotiating a good price for the information and had given Karrde precisely what he wanted.

And from there a wonderful working relationship was formed.

Darvix had always admired Talon Karrde. He was a man who had a passion for knowledge, be it profound or trivial. To Darvix it seemed that Talon valued information because it could be a powerful tool that could be more effective than sheer strength. Karrde was a logical, calculating man capable of out-thinking all of his enemies. He was a man bound by no rules but his own, adhering only to his own code of ethics. If things had played out differently in Darvix's life, he could easily see himself working for a man like Talon Karrde.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Karrde said as he walked into the conference room, taking a seat at the head of the table. "I needed to make sure our tracks were covered. Last thing I need is for Alliance intelligence to figure out I broke through the blockade."

Darvix nodded, "I'm just grateful you bothered to meet us."

"After your six year disappearing act I had to see for myself that you were still alive," Karrde said. "I can't believe you and Skywalker managed to fool us all."

"It was a brilliant cover-up by Skywalker," Darvix responded. "He really went the distance, even dropped fragments of an X-Wing into an asteroid field to throw off investigators."

"In any case," Darvix leaned back in his chair as he changed the subject, "allow me to introduce you to Rogue Squadron's senior staff." He gestured to his left. "Astrogations specialist Vik Kelrune, chief intelligence analyst Lysa Chanaan, and our commanding officer Jaina Solo."

"Ah Colonel Solo, Next time you see your father tell him he owes me a drink," Karrde glanced over at Jaina. "Now as for the information Mr. Zorvan asked me to look up…"

Karrde pressed a button on the conference table, dimming the lights in the room. The holoprojector at the center of the table came to life and a recording began to play. Darvix could tell this holovideo had been taken with some sort of a concealed recording device. The image was shaky and somewhat unclear at moments. Stormtroopers and men clad in traditional Imperial Navy uniforms walked past the camera every few moments. Eventually the image focused on a TIE-Defender that was parked on the duracrete floor of a hangar. The sound of machinery and electronics filled the hangar suddenly. The TIE Defender's hull flashed in spots, a purple glow filling the room momentarily. Suddenly, the starfighter had vanished from the holovid without a trace.

"When was this holovid shot?" Darvix asked.

"About six months ago," Karrde said. "One of my operatives was disguised as an Imperial officer assigned to this research facility. He wasn't able to get this to us until a few days ago."

"Who's running this operation?"

"Keep watching," Karrde said.

A man dressed in an Imperial officer's uniform walked away from the location where the TIE Defender had been and closer to the concealed holocamera. The holovid stopped as the officer's face came into view. All of the sudden, Darvix's hands balled up into fists. This man was supposed to be dead. He had been killed on board the ISD Ender thirteen years ago at Bilbringi IV. What was he doing in this video?

"That would be Captain Reyov Naolin, second order of the Royal Imperial Navy," Karrde explained.

"I know who he is," Darvix muttered. "We have a bit of history. Captain Naolin was the commanding officer of the _Ender_, the home station of the codenamed Phantom Project."

"The Phantom Project?" Vik asked.

Karrde keyed for the lights in the room to return to normal, "It was an application of the cloaking system devised and created by Grand Admiral Thrawn about twenty-five years ago. Naolin hired a number of Sienar Fleet Systems engineers and developers to reverse-engineer Thrawn's system and incorporate it into a custom two-seat TIE starfighter."

"It was a nightmare for the New Republic," Darvix explained. "In the span of three years the Phantom Project took out fifteen military outposts and destroyed seven of our capitol ships. Based on this holovid and what we saw yesterday, it looks like Naolin is alive and well…As is the Phantom Project. Those TIE Defenders we ran into yesterday were using that technology to keep themselves hidden."

Karrde signaled for one of his aides to place a datapad in front of the four Rogues, "For a while it was believed that Naolin had been killed aboard the Ender. A few years ago we discovered that he had managed to jettison just before Rogue Squadron- That is, Antilles' Rogue Squadron- took down the Ender. It gets worse, though."

"Ten months ago rumors began spreading throughout the Imperial Remnant about a high-ranking Captain who had gone AWOL," Karrde continued. "My people managed to confirm that Naolin had vanished, taking an aging Imperial Class II Star Destroyer with him. I've heard various reports about Naolin's mental stability over the last few months, none of them flattering. He seems to think that the Imperial Remnant has gone soft and it's his responsibility to restore the Empire to its former glory."

Darvix shook his head, "Wonderful. We've got an AWOL Imperial officer who thinks it's his divine calling to restore Palpatine's Empire. Anything else we need to know?"

"Take a look at those datapads," Karrde said. "My operative within Naolin's organization managed to intercept some readings from the demonstration you saw in the holovid. Notice anything odd?"

"This is strange," Lysa said, scanning over the data once more. "If I'm reading this right, the algorithms being used to keep this starfighter cloaked are being transmitted to the ship from another location."

Jaina set her datapd down, "But that doesn't make any sense. Why transmit this data instead of working it out locally? This method looks as if it's asking for some sort of malfunction to occur."

"If I had to wager a guess," Lysa folded her arms across her chest, "Naolin's using this method because he doesn't have the resources to build a custom starfighter like he did last time. He's stuck using pre-built TIE Defenders."

"The original Phantom Fighter was a larger two-man vessel," Darvix chimed in. "A pilot and a cloaking device operator that monitored and operated the device itself. Naolin never could figure out a way to completely automate the system and it looks like he still hasn't. If anything the system is weaker now than it was thirteen years ago."

"So where is data transmitting from?" Jaina asked.

"Yesterday it was a Lambda-class shuttle broadcasting a wide-band frequency," Lysa explained. "I can promise you Naolin's never going to do that again. The next time he uses his Phantoms, he'll be transmitting that signal from the Star Destroyer he stole."

Darvix nodded, "My thoughts exactly. It's too easy to destroy a transport ship. It takes an entire bomber squadron to take down a Star Destroyer…if we're lucky."

"So either we get more help, or we've got to figure out some other way to stop that transmission if we want to have any hope of stopping Naolin," Jaina said.

Karrde interrupted, "I think I might be able to help you further."

The holoprojector came to life again, displaying a star map, "If the information my analysts have gathered is correct, Naolin's Star Destroyer suffered a failed hyperdrive approximately twelve hours ago. They are stranded in between the Century and Tau star systems… I can arrange to have one of you deliver hyperdrive components."

"You're saying you can put one of us on that Star Destroyer?" Jaina asked.

Karrde nodded, "I can, but there's a catch. I have the hyperdrive components, but I don't have a ship to spare right now. If you can furnish a transport vessel, I can get you in there."

The room was silent for a moment. If they were going to strike at Naolin, this was the time to do it, "I've got a transport," Darvix said. "The Tatooine Gallows. She's still registered to me. I can be there in three days."

"This is all well and good," Lysa said, "but I think we're all forgetting something. We're under direct orders to remain in the Jaminere system until the communications blackout has lifted. If we leave, we're all facing court marshals and looking at the next twenty years of our lives in the brig."

"Well…" Jaina considered, "I'm not sure about the rest of you, but the thought of sitting here waiting for someone else to figure out what's going on rubs me the wrong way. I say to hell with our orders."

"Colonel, are you suggesting that Rogue Squadron go rogue?" Darvix asked.

Jaina smiled, "It's not like that's never happened before. What do you say, should we go after Naolin, punishment be damned?"

"Far be it for me to question Rogue Squadron's time-honored tradition of breaking the rules," Vik said. "Let's go get him."

"I was planning on retiring before I joined back up with Rogue Squadron," Lysa said. "This sounds far more entertaining."

"Colonel, I think you're crazy," Darvix noted, "and I've never been more proud to serve under you." He turned to Talon Karrde, "We'll head back for the surface to work out the details. I'll report back to you as soon as our timeline and course of action are final."

Jaina, Lysa, and Vik stood and gathered their belongings, leaving the conference room to return to their shuttle. Darvix lagged behind. He needed to have a moment with Talon Karrde in private. While he was with the Jedi Academy, Darvix had served as a freelance information analyst for Karrde's organization. In exchange for piecing together various bits and pieces of intelligence scattered throughout the Galaxy, Karrde would send his men to look for clues and artifacts Darvix was looking for.

As it stood now, Karrde still owed Darvix a favor.

"I've got a request to make," Darvix said.

Karrde grinned, "You really belong on the fringe, son. There's always some sort of ulterior motive with you. What can I do for you?"

"I'm calling in that favor you owe me," Darvix looked to the floor for a moment. "In one of the medical recovery sectors is a girl by the name of Kessila. Before you leave the system I'd like for you to go down there and get her."

"That's an awfully big request, Zorvan," Karrde said. "Calling in a favor is asking me to dig for information, not looking after someone. This goes well beyond that."

Darvix held up his hands, "I know, I know. It's just… I made a mistake and she's suffering the consequences of it now. I just need you to keep her safe for a little while. As soon as this entire affair blows over I'll come back for her and set things right."

Karrde considered for a moment, scanning over Darvix, "If I do this for you, you're going to owe me big."

"When this is all over you name your price and I'll pay it," Darvix pleaded. "If it's credits, I'll pay it. If you need me to work for you again, I'll do it. You've got my word."

Karrde nodded, "I'll send a shuttle down for her within the hour."

"Thank you," Darvix's shoulders slumped in relief.

"We'll be in touch, Mr. Zorvan," Karrde said as he turned his back to walk out of the conference room.

***

* * *

Darvix threw his duffel into the underbelly compartment of his X-Wing, closing the hatch after he was certain all of his belongings were safely secured. As he glanced at his wrist chronometer he saw that he had about thirty minutes left before he had to leave and punch through the blockade. If he didn't stick to the schedule the entire operation would be blown. Thankfully, the plan was at least somewhat simple. The first order of business was to travel to a nearby Alliance shipyard and recover the _Tatooine Gallows_. The Gallows was an aging but functional Gallofree GR-45 medium transport that had been converted into a hybrid cargo ship and starfighter carrier. Darvix had been given command of the ship while serving the Jedi Academy.

From there, he would meet one of Karrde's ships in a nearby star system to transfer a set of replacement Star Destroyer hyperdrive components onto the Gallows. The last leg of the trip would take him straight to Captain Naolin's stranded Star Destroyer. While the components were being transferred, he would sneak aboard and take down the Phantom algorithm system. If there was any time to spare, he would try and bring down as many of the Star Destroyer's critical systems as possible to clear way for an attack. After that, it was all up to Rogue Squadron to bring Naolin down.

"Darvix, you have a minute?" Cheriss ke Hanadi had snuck up on Darvix from out of nowhere.

Darvix smiled as he zipped up his flightsuit, "For you, always."

Cheriss smiled faintly and pulled out a small pack of mini cigarras from the breast pocket of her vest, "You know I had no idea you had a sister and a niece." She offered one to Darvix.

"I try not to talk about her that often…" he said as he took one of the cigarras out of the pack. "I left her behind on Nar Shadaa. I suppose you could say it's a tough memory."

Cheriss nodded as she used her pocket torch to light Darvix's cigarra, "It seems like there's a lot of things I don't know about you."

"You've changed," Cheriss continued. "Well, we've changed. I'm not the same person I was thirteenyears ago and neither are you. You're not the same brash and charming man you used to be. You're confident now, brave to the point where I have to question your sanity at times. You're a good man, but…"

"But we're never getting those thirteen years back," Darvix finished her thought.

Cheriss' eyes were locked on the ground, "We were young, Darvix. We rushed headfirst into this without thinking it through. Maybe if we had those thirteen years back we could have…"

She didn't need to finish. Darvix knew exactly what she was trying to say. Thirteen years was a long time to be separated from someone. People were bound to change in that time. There was a point where Darvix himself was a wide-eyed greenhorn pilot, mesmerized by the allure and grandeur of fighting among the New Republic's greatest heroes. The passing years had changed Darvix as much as they had changed Cheriss. She was right, he wasn't the same brash pilot filled with the enthusiasm of youth. For better or for worse, he had become a battle-hardened warrior that had seen too many awful things during the course of his adventures.

"Look at us," Darvix said with a faint smile as he exhaled a puff of cigarra smoke. "Reality has turned us both into weathered old veterans."

Cheriss laughed softly as she inhaled from her cigarra. Thirteen years was a long time indeed. It was enough time for both of them to reflect upon the decisions they had made, and both of them had come to the same conclusion. Darvix was somewhat surprised with himself. He thought he would protest the very thought, but he knew this was the right thing to do. He still cared deeply for him, and she felt the same way towards him. However in that long span of time, they had become much different people.

They weren't the same couple that had agreed to wed each other those many years ago.

He knew that he wasn't right for her anymore, just as he knew she wasn't right for him. Both of them deserved better than each other. The years of war she had endured and the endless internal strife he had suffered had broken both of them. They could no longer continue to pretend nothing had changed. In the span of thirteen years the entire Galaxy had changed around them. It only made sense that the two of them would be altered as well. They were close companions, yet they were strangers at the same time.

"Thank you, Darvix," Cheriss said quietly, finally mustering up the courage to look at him.

"For what?" he asked, a somber expression on his face.

"I never had many people in my life I could care about," she explained. "Then you came along and I found someone I wanted to fight to protect. Over the years I kept serving the military so I could protect people like you…People with honor, people who always strive to do what's right."

Darvix felt a lump rising in his throat, "as flawed as they might be."

"We're all flawed," Cheriss said as she took Darvix's hand into hers. "That's part of what makes us who we are. Just promise me one thing…"

"What's that?"

"Never forget who you are," Cheriss wrapped her arms around Darvix. "You've always lived by your own rules. You've always done everything in your power to do the right thing, regulations and laws be damned. You may be more bitter and jaded than you were all those years ago, but you're wiser as well. Never forget who you are, and never succumb to the pressure to conform to what others want you to be."

Darvix wrapped his own arms around Cheriss and just held her. She always knew just what to say to him, "Even though we may not be the same people we used to be, I'll always love you."

"I know," Cheriss said as she looked up at Darvix.

Their faces were mere inches away from each other. It was tempting to lean into her for one last kiss, but for once in his life, Darvix exercised restraint. This process didn't need to feel any more painful than it already did. He smiled at Cheriss and placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing softly. He would never be able to repay her for being such a constant presence in his life. Even during those dark years when he thought that she was dead, her memory had always guided him to press forward. Every pilot and Jedi needed someone to fight for. For Darvix, it was the memory of Cheriss that had inspired him to, as she had said, do what was right and what needed to be done.

As Darvix took off in his X-Wing minutes later, he caught sight of Cheriss standing on the ground below. As a show of gratitude, he snapped a salute to her. He knew her well enough to know that simple gesture coming from him would mean a great deal. Cheriss ke Hanadi may have changed over the years, but she was still a woman who commanded a great deal of respect and honor from those around her.

And that was one part about her Darvix Zorvan would always love.


	21. Resurrection of a Rogue

_Author's note: Uploaded a little early because I'm going to be gone most of the day. _

**Chapter 19 – Resurrection of a Rogue**

Vik Kelrune frowned as he scanned over the astrogation chart in front of him. It had been two days since he had initially seen these charts, yet he still couldn't figure it out. Why was Naolin's Star Destroyer stranded in this particular section of the Galaxy? It made no sense. There were no common hyperspace trade routes that ran through this sector. There weren't any known smuggler routes, not even old Rebel Alliance military routes bothered to navigate through this area. On both sides of the stranded Star Destroyer were black holes that made astrogations extraordinarily difficult. A small starfighter could manage to navigate through, but a larger capitol ship could easily get caught in gravity wells and sustain damage or be destroyed. Vik suspected that Captain Naolin's stolen Star Destroyer had been caught by the edge of one of the black hole's gravity fields, pulling it out of hyperspace and damaging its hyperdrive.

Of course, that still didn't explain why the Star Destroyer had been trying to navigate through this mess. No one in their right mind would try to put a starship between these black holes, it was almost as dangerous as trying to traverse the Maw. Just where were they trying to go? As he took one more look at the astrogation chart, he felt his stomach sink. In his mind he began to visualize the likely route the Star Destroyer had taken and from there had extrapolated where this route should have taken the ship. If he was right, Naolin's target was Coruscant, the former capitol and center of the Galactic Empire.

"Colonel!" Vik called out, "Get in here, you need to see this!"

Jaina peered through the flap of the tent, "What is it?"

"These astrogation figures," Vik said. "Either Naolin is brilliant or he's gone completely mad."

She stepped behind Vik, peering over his shoulder, "What do you mean."

"Just look at this," Vik said, placing his finger where the stranded Star Destroyer was, "No one in their right mind would try to chart a hyperspace route between these black holes. The only reason you would try this stunt is if you're trying to get to one location and one location alone."

Jaina's eyes went wide as the realization dawned on her, "Coruscant."

"Exactly," Vik said, "and look at this-" He made a few markings on the astrogation chart. "The Alliance fleet has been cleared out ahead of him. They're all surrounding Jaminere now."

"Sithspit," Jaina cursed. "This entire disaster was just a distraction."

"Reyov Naolin ordered the attack on Jaminere to draw our still-weak Alliance fleet out of their defensive holding patterns to form a blockade around the system we're stuck in," Vik explained. "Coruscant is completely and utterly defenseless, and we're the only aware that it's in danger."

"I see…" Jaina paused for a moment, trying to process this new bit of information. "Lieutenant, I'm going to need you to suit up and fly with us today. Do you think you can do it?"

Vik nodded. With Lilea gone and Erim Zess dismissed from Rogue Squadron, they were already two pilots short, "It's been a while since I've flown combat, but my basic flight certification was renewed just prior to my reinstatement with the military. I can handle it."

"Go suit up and get into Zess' X-Wing to familiarize yourself with it," Jaina ordered. "We leave in two hours."

"Yes, ma'am," Vik replied.

***

* * *

Darvix walked across the docking module connecting the _Tatooine Gallows_ to the Imperial Star Destroyer _Ender II_. It was almost as if he were enacting something out of a Holodrama. The intrepid, brave Rebel sneaks aboard the mighty Imperial warship to take it down. It was hard to believe that the conflict between the Rebel Alliance and the Galactic Empire had ended so long ago. There was a point in time where one of the most frightening sights imaginable was an Imperial Star Destroyer bearing down on you. Now these ships were merely a reminder of years gone by. Darvix paused in front of the door that would take him into the _Ender II_ to gather his wits. Time was running out. He had thirty minutes to put this plan in motion.

As he keyed the door release, he was immediately greeted by a pair of Stormtroopers. _Now there's something I haven't seen in a while_, he thought to himself.

"Are the components on board?" The Stormtrooper on the left asked.

"They are," Darvix responded gruffly, "but you're not getting them until I see my payment."

"Terms of payment will be discussed after the hyperdrive components are onboard," The Stormtrooper replied.

Darvix shook his head, "I don't think so. You tell your commanding officer to get down here if he wants to negotiate another deal than the one we had setup. Otherwise it's pay me now, or I'll just leave with these parts and leave you bucketheads stranded in between a pair of black holes."

The Stormtroopers glanced at each other for a moment before the one on the right spoke up, "We'll have to verify the cargo first."

"By all means, come aboard and take a look for yourself," Darvix said, gesturing for the two Stormtroopers to follow him.

It was quiet in the corridors of the _Ender II_ for a few moments before two muffled blaster shots pierced the silence. Darvix stepped out of the corridor once more and glanced to his left and then right to make sure no one had heard him take out the two Stormtroopers. Fairly confident that he could proceed undetected, he left the docking module behind. He needed to make his way down two levels to the data processing facility and he needed to get there quick. To his right, he caught sight of a ventilation cover. He dropped to his knees and pulled the cover off, quickly disappearing into the ventilation system.

_Why is it that Jedi Knights spend so much of their lives crawling through vents?_ he wondered to himself as he crawled through the narrow passage.

He pulled off a pocket torchlight from his belt and illuminated it, lighting the path ahead of him. If he was correct, he was nearly on top of the data processing facility. He just needed to find a way to get down two levels. Darvix allowed himself to drop down a vertical section of the ventilation system, landing as softly as he could on the metal surface below. He was getting closer, just one more level. He suspected he had about fifteen minutes to bring the Phantom cloaking system down before Rogue Squadron arrived in the system. He had to hurry.

Just before Darvix had killed the two stormtroopers, they had ordered the hyperdrive components to be offloaded from his ship. Hopefully that would keep the majority of the Star Destroyer's security staff busy. He crawled forward to another ventilation cover and peered through it. Below him were various computer terminals that he knew were connected to the Star Destroyer's primary systems. This was what he was looking for. Darvix kicked the ventilation cover open and jumped through, landing on his feet.

Around him were several officers dressed in Imperial uniforms, clearly startled to see him. He drew his blaster, "Nobody moves!"

From the corner of his eye, he saw one of the officers reaching for a communication panel. Darvix quickly spun and snapped off a shot of his blaster, catching the officer square in the chest, "I want one of you to lock this room down now!"

One of the officers complied, moving to the nearby door control panel and locking it from the inside. Darvix holstered his blaster and moved towards one of the consoles, his fingers flying over the controls. Bypassing level one security. He glanced at his wrist chronometer and swore. Thirty minutes were up. Rogue Squadron was about to drop into the system. He had to work faster.

"Just what do you think you're doing!?" one of the officers demanded.

"Shut up!" Darvix yelled. "Interrupt me again and you're going to find my blaster in an orifice of my choosing."

***

* * *

"Captain, we're hearing reports of blaster fire in data processing."

Reyov Naolin looked up from his command chair at the officer who had just approached him, "What is the cause?"

"It's unconfirmed, sir," the officer explained. "The facility has gone into lockdown mode and our stormtroopers can't get in."

"Display the videofeed from data processing," Naolin ordered.

The holoprojector in front of him came to life as the feed from the data processing facility displayed. Naolin could see several of his officers backed into a corner of the large room, cowering in fear. As the angle panned to the right, he saw a lone man standing in front of the primary access console, furiously plugging away at it. Naolin zoomed in on the figure. Briefly, the man looked at the camera, just long enough for Naolin to get a good look at him. A wiry smile formed upon his lips.

"Sir that appears to be the captain of the ship that is delivering our hyperdrive components," the officer said.

Naolin shook his head, "No, that would be a Rebel operative. Give word to the hangar. Tell them to launch all Phantom starfighters immediately."

"…sir?" the officer was clearly confused by the order.

"Just do it," Naolin said. "Tell them to prepare for ship-to-ship combat."

"Aye, sir," The officer replied. "Launching Phantom starfighters. What should we do about the intruder?"

"Flush him out of there, but don't kill him," Naolin stood and walked towards the exist of the bridge. "Let him run back to his ship. As soon as he tries to pull out of docking, destroy him."

"Sir, where are you going?"

Naolin looked over his shoulder, "I wish to have a word with our guest. You have the bridge."

***

* * *

"Reversion to realspace in thirty seconds," Jaina said into her helmet-mounted microphone. "Forgo check-in and go straight to attack mode. Our target priority is the Star Destroyer, repeat, our target priority is the Star Destroyer. Three and four flights are to provide space superiority. One and two flights will make the first volley on the primary target. As soon as your torpedoes are spent, your responsibility switches to covering three and four flight while they make their run."

"Remember everyone, we're Rogue Squadron," Jaina tightened her grip around the flightstick. "We're good at blowing things up."

Jaina smiled faintly to herself and thanked the Force she and Darvix had selected these pilots. Before leaving she had briefed everyone about the mission ahead of them. They were breaking countless rules and laws by breaking free of the blockade and leaving Jaminere. No commanding officer could order their pilots to do something like that, so she gave them a choice. They could stay behind, or they could join her and face the repercussions.

All fourteen of them said they would take the fight straight to Naolin.

The molten black and blue of hyperspace gave way to a stream of stars. Ahead of her was the stolen Imperial Star Destroyer under the command of one Reyov Naolin. Docked to her side was a GR-45 transport, the _Tatooine Gallows_. This was bad. Darvix was supposed to have broken free by now. He was either running behind schedule or something terrible had happened. It was long before the situation became worse. The forward sensors of Jaina's X-Wings went off, triggering an alarm in her cockpit. There were multiple enemy contacts in the vicinity, but she had no visual.

"Belay orders, go evasive now!" Jaina ordered.

Jaina pulled back hard on her flightstick as a stream of green laser fire appeared out of nowhere. The Phantoms were in the vicinity, and the Rogues couldn't see them. If Zorvan was still alive, he needed to hurry.

***

* * *

Darvix could hear Stormtroopers pounding on the door. He tried to ignore them as he sliced deeper into the computer terminal. Bypassing authorization system. Accessing the Phantom Operations system. He was in. Now he had to take it down. Darvix began opening critical files, altering code and deleting entries. As he delved deeper into the algorithms, he realized that he wasn't going to be able to disable it. There were too many layers of security to get through, and he was already running behind. He may not be able to disable it, but he would be able to alter it. He began to insert new lines of code into the program that transmitted information to the cloaking devices on the Phantom starfighters. The moment he was certain it would work, Darvix entered the command for the code to transmit.

Just at that moment the door to the room burst open and he found himself surrounded by blaster fire. The Stormtroopers had finally broken through, but there was still one thing left he had to do. He leaned into the console, trying to conceal his profile from the blaster fire as he sliced into a different part of the Star Destroyer's primary systems. His fingers flew over the controls as he uploaded one last file into the system. The moment it was finished Darvix pulled his lightsaber out from under his vest and ignited it.

He pushed his way forward, deflecting blaster fire back towards the Stormtroopers. Several fell to the ground as their own attacks were redirected into their chests. Darvix slashed to the left, tearing through a nearby Stormtrooper and clearing a way for his escape. With no hesitation he exited the room and burst down the corridor to safety. All he had to do now was get back to his ship and he was home free. Still, something bothered him. It was almost as if those Stormtroopers had let him escape. That was far too easy.

As Darvix approached the docking module that would lead him back to his ship, he stopped in his tracks. A man clad in an Imperial Captain's uniform stood in front of him. He was an aging man, slim and somewhat frail looking. Despite that he exuded a certain amount of confidence. Darvix knew this man, he knew him all too well. It appeared that Captain Reyov Naolin had come to pay him a personal visit.

"Oh, my dear Darvix," Naolin said. "You were such a promising young man. What happened to you?"

***

* * *

Jaina juked her X-Wing from left to right, trying to avoid the laser fire from her invisible enemy. This wasn't going well at all. Her pilots were barely holding together as they tried to defend themselves from their unseen attackers. One and Two flights had yet to break free to launch an attack on the Star Destroyer. At this rate they wouldn't get the chance. Jaina knew she had to call for a retreat, there was no way this mission could succeed if the Phantom starfighters were still cloaked. Just as she was prepared to give the order to fall back and drop back into hyperspace, her radio came alive.

"I have visual, repeat I have visual!" Inyri yelled over the radio. "Targets are bright red, repeat targets are bright red!"

Jaina looked up and grinned from ear to ear. The cloaking system on the TIE Defenders had malfunctioned. Instead of concealing their presence, they now projected a bright red target around their hulls. A clear visual like that made taking them out easier than simulated target practice. _This really isn't fair,_ she thought to herself. _Then again, Antilles always said that the pilots of Rogue Squadron were a bunch of opportunistic misfits._

"Three and four flight provide cover!" Jaina ordered. "One and Two flight form up on me. I want all of your torpedoes focused on that Star Destroyer. Repeat, fire all nine of your torpedoes on the Star Destroyer!"

The pilots of the first two Rogue Squadron flights gave their acknowledgement through the radio. Jaina swapped her firing controls over to proton torpedoes and brought her targeting brackets square on the Star Destroyer. If they were lucky, the seventy-two proton torpedoes of One and Two Flights would be enough to cripple and destroy the Star Destroyer. As he glanced at her aft sensors, Jaina saw that the TIE Defenders were being kept busy by the other half of the squadron. As the distance between the enemy starfighters and her flight of X-Wings increased, she felt her confidence growing.

"Lead, check out the readouts on the Star Destroyer!" Pash said. "The shields are down! Zorvan took her shields down!"

Jaina felt her spirits soar. They just had to get their torpedoes off and the Star Destroyer would be done for, "Launch as soon as you get a solid tone."

"What about Dap?" Kasari asked. "He's still on board!"

"He'll get off," Vik responded. "Just get ready to fire."

The targeting brackets on Jaina's HUD began to flash. Two beeps. Three beeps. In another few seconds the targeting computer would have a solid lock on the Star Destroyer. As she prepared to fire, a tinge of anxiety began to form in the back of her mind. Why hadn't Darvix left the Star Destroyer yet? What was holding him up. The sound of a solid electronic tone awoke Jaina. She had a lock. Quickly she switched her torpedoes to triple-fire and squeezed the trigger three times, launching three rounds of proton torpedoes at the Star Destroyer.

"Torpedoes aweigh!" Jaina yelled as she pulled back on her flightstick to break off her attack pattern.

***

* * *

"Nar Shaddaa was your homeworld, wasn't it? I believe that's where I saw your wanted poster," Naolin said. "Such a pitty. You were such a pleasant young man when I first met you."

Darvix's hands balled into fists. Reyov Naolin had been the Imperial Officer placed in charge of his home planet. He had been a ruthless leader, exterminating any non-human that crossed his path and executing anyone who dared question him. The men who had served under him were just as menacing, turning the streets of Nar Shaddaa into a militarized zone. If you didn't buy into the Imperial doctrine, you were destined to suffer on that world. Naolin was as loyal to the Empire as anyone.

"You probably don't even remember how you first met me, do you Darvix?" Naolin asked.

"You'll have to forgive me," Darvix said through clenched teeth. "I try to suppress memories of warmongers."

Naolin let out a hearty laugh, "Warmonger? My stars, where did you get that impression? I am but a peacekeeper, someone to promote the ideals of the illustrious Emperor Palpatine. Everything I did, everything I have ever done, was for his glory."

"Palpatine has been dead for a long time," Darvix replied.

"He may be dead," Naolin conceded, "but his ideals are alive and well. But enough about that…Let's talk about you, shall we?"

"It was your mother who introduced us, you know," Naolin continued. "She wanted for you to become an Imperial officer so desperately. Do you remember that day we first met? No? Well what bout the little Twi'lek girl?"

Darvix felt his heart stop. The Twi'lek girl. When he was just a boy his mother had introduced him to an Imperial officer. He had gone for a walk with the officer that day, listening to stories about the glory of the Empire and the wonders of serving the Emperor's vast and mighty military. At the time, Darvix's wasn't even aware of the fall of Coruscant and the Empire's crumbling infrastructure. The propaganda was still alive and well. As they walked, they ran into a lonely little Twi'lek girl, sitting at the end of a dark alley.

_"Aliens are the scum of the galaxy," he had told Darvix. "Imagine if we could live in a galaxy where it was just Humans, no one to hold us back."_

He placed a blaster in Darvix's hands that day. No words had to be exchanged at that point, it was clear what he wanted Darvix to do. That day he didn't hesitate to aim the blaster and pull the trigger. Without a hint of remorse, he took the life of that little Twi'lek girl, and for what? He did it to conform to his mother's whims and to the expectations of a xenophobic madman.

"Just think, Darvix," Naolin said. "A galaxy without aliens, a galaxy where it is just humans. No one to hold us back."

Darvix drew his lightsaber and ignited it, staring down Naolin. The man deserved to die. He had killed so many people over the years and had caused so much suffering. He was the one who had started Darvix into a spiraling descent of despair. He was the one who was responsible for the six years Cheriss had spent as a prisoner of war. He was the one who had destroyed Jaminere.

"You're not going to kill me," Naolin said. "You're incapable of it. You are nothing but a spineless coward who ran away from home instead of facing the Galaxy as a member of the Emperor's mighty army. Imagine my surprise when I found you aboard my Star Destroyer thirteen years ago, trying to put an end to me. You couldn't do it then, and you can't do it now."

"No…" Darvix shook his head and deactivated his lightsaber. "No, I assure you, I am fully capable of killing you where you stand. You wouldn't be the first person whose life I've ended prematurely."

"Luckily for you, I'm not the same person that boarded your ship all those years ago," Darvix raised his hand and called upon the Force, pushing Naolin away from him and clearing the path to the docking module. Without looking back Darvix ran towards his ship. Within moments Naolin was back on his feet and had drawn a blaster, firing towards Darvix as he chased after him. In the corner of his eye he saw a blue streak sailing towards the docking module. Naolin continued to fire at him as he slipped back into the _Tatooine Gallows_. He closed the door behind him, locking Naolin outside.

He watched as Naolin pounded against the transparisteel window of the door. Darvix smiled faintly and mouthed "goodbye" as a proton torpedo struck the docking module. Naolin's eyes were wide with panic as the explosion ripped through the tunnel. He watched as the atmosphere began to vent out of the docking module. No, he wouldn't end Naolin's life prematurely in a fit of anger. He would give the Imperial bastard the last thirty seconds of life that fate had afforded him.

Darvix's face was expressionless as Reyov Naolin was vented into the cold, hard vacuum of space. It was good to know that sometimes the Galaxy took care of scum like him.

It wasn't long before he was awoken from his thoughts. The _Tatooine Gallows_ shook as the Star Destroyer opened fire on it. Looking through the viewport he could see that the _Ender II_ was barely holding together. The Rogue Squadron torpedoes had torn through her hull, causing a massive amount of damage. Despite that it was still firing upon Darvix. He had to get off this ship.

He made his way towards the makeshift hanger of the aging GR-45 transport, grabbing his flightsuit along the way. The stunt he was about to pull was dangerous, and if it went wrong he would have to eject. He'd prefer to be in a protective suit so as not to suffer the same fate of Captain Naolin. Darvix rushed to his X-Wing and began the power-on process. As his starfighter came to life he hastily threw on his flightsuit, checking to make sure all of his life-support gear was functional.

The _Gallows_ began to shake more violently. Darvix knew that the shields had failed and he was running out of time to save himself. He quickly climbed into his X-Wing and engaged the repulsorlifts, lifting his starfighter off the ground enough to extend his S-Foils into attack position. This should work, he thought to himself. He had done the math, with his shields at full strength this would be imminently survivable. Of course, any time a pilot fired a proton torpedo in an enclosed space they expected the worst.

***

* * *

Inyri let out a holler as she downed the last of the TIE Defenders. They were close to pulling it off. She pulled her flightstick to the right and slammed no her right etheric rudder pedal. The crippled Star Destroyer came into her sights. Flames poured out of the battered hull of the once proud ship. She armed her torpedoes and prepared for one final assault on the ship should Colonel Solo order it. Once again, Rogue Squadron was about to beat the odds. They alone would have managed to take out a squadron of Phantom starfighters and an entire Star Destroyer.

"Sithspit he's still in there!" Kasari Lisae's voice rang through the radio.

"They're opening fire on the Gallows!" Ace Azzameen said. "We've got to do something!"

"Clear out! Clear out!" Jaina ordered. "They're falling into the event horizon of that black hole!"

With sense of dull horror Inyri watched as the battered Star Destroyer succumbed to the gravity of the massive black hole. The _Tatooine Gallows_ slowly followed, her flight systems having failed. Darvix was still on board and was trapped, but there was nothing the Rogues could do. If they got any closer they were liable to be drawn into the black hole themselves. Time was running out for him.

Suddenly an explosion shook the old GR-45 transport. Through the flames Inyri caught sight of the silhouette of an X-Wing racing away from the black hole, "Zorvan, is that you!?"

"Major Janson I regret to inform you that Major Darvix Zorvan has survived and will live to see another day," Darvix's voice filled the radio.

"Dap if there was ever any question about your worthiness with the Rogues," Inyri said, "you just vaporized all doubt!"

As Darvix's X-Wing made its way back to the rest of the Squadron, Inyri watched as the Star Destroyer and the Gallows was dragged into the black hole. Just like that, Reyov Naolin and his Phantom nightmare was obliterated, never to harm the Galaxy again.

***

* * *

Hyperspace was a welcome sight for Darvix. Hyperspace meant that the Rogues were going home. It meant that the Phantom threat was destroyed once and for all. Soon they would be able to report to the Alliance what had happened and Jaminere would receive the aid it needed. The Rogues would finally be able to celebrate a job well done. A squadron that had been on the brink of destruction only months ago had returned to its former glory. Rogue Squadron was once again capable of accomplishing the impossible.

Darvix felt his stomach sink. He knew the celebration would be short-lived. Every member of Rogue Squadron had violated orders by willingly leaving Jaminere and punching through the blockade. They were all facing court marshals and were likely facing twenty years in the brig for their actions. Their lives were about to be destroyed, and it was his fault. He had dragged Rogue Squadron to Jaminere as an excuse to search for his long-lost niece and sister. They would all pay the price for his actions. Whats worse was that his selfishness had resulted in the death of his wingman and student.

No one was going to suffer again because he had acted impulsively.

"Zone, I need you to relay a message to Alliance Command," Darvix said to his R2 unit. "Send this message immediately…"

Darvix took a deep breath and closed his eyes, "I, Major Darvix Zorvan of Galactic Alliance starfighter squadron Rogue Squadron…" he paused for a moment to regain his composure, "confess to the crimes of mutiny and treason and submit myself to arrest in order to face judgment by a military tribunal..."


	22. Self Sacrifice

**Chapter 20 – Self Sacrifice**

Jaina Solo jumped down from her X-Wing to the duracrete floor of the Mon Mothma's hangar. They had done it. Rogue Squadron had put an end to the second Phantom Crisis. No doubt there would be repercussions for breaking so many rules and lawns along the way, but for now each and ever member of the squadron could be proud of themselves. Another chapter would be added into the history texts of Rogue Squadron, the only unit in the Alliance capable of pulling off the impossible. All around her were pilots exchanging handshakes and hugs. They had gone through a tremendous amount of hardship over the last few months. Jaina knew they deserved this.

Then there was Darvix. Even in a moment of celebration he insisted on being alone. Jaina admitted it was amusing to see him leaning against the front landing strut of his X-Wing, watching the others congratulate each other from the distance. That was Darvix for you. A brilliant mind, but just as socially awkward. Jaina made a note to talk to him later to thank him for the hard work he had done. Even he deserved a bit of an ego boost today.

As she turned around to retrieve her duffel out of her X-Wing, she saw a handful of armed military police officers walk into the hanger. Looks like the celebration would be extremely short-lived. Jaina was surprised when the military police walked right past her and towards Darvix. What was going on here? She followed closely behind them.

"Major Darvix Zorvan?" One of the officers asked.

Darvix looked up and cocked his head to the side, "That would be me, yes."

"Major Zorvan you are hereby placed under arrest for the suspected crimes of intelligence falsification, mutiny, and treason," the officer said. "You have the right to an attorney of your choosing, if you cannot afford an attorney one will be appointed to you. Do you understand?"

"Take me away, boys," Darvix held out his hands which the officer took, bringing them behind his back and restraining them.

"What the hell is going on here!?" Jaina demanded. "One of you needs to tell my why my executive officer is being arrested!"

The officer looked at Jaina for a moment before nudging Darvix forward, "Major Zorvan has confessed to falsifying intelligence documents and engineering a successful mutiny attempt. I'm sorry he deceived you, Colonel. Your orders were to remain on Jaminere, not go after an Imperial Remnant Star Destroyer."

Jaina and the other Rogues could only watch dumbfounded as Darvix was dragged away. What had just happened? Every one of the Rogues knew what they were getting into when the left Jaminere. They knew that court marshals were coming. There was no deception involved, so why had Darvix been arrested? Why was he taking the entirety of the blame? She wanted answers, and she was going to get them.

***

* * *

Jaina slammed her fists atop Admiral Darklighter's desk, "That's not acceptable!"

"It's out of my control," Darklighter replied. "He confessed to doctoring intelligence reports as part of a plan to commit mutiny and treason."

"We all agreed to it!" Jaina was exasperated. "Nothing was doctored, we knew what were were doing when we left."

"And you can't prove it," Darklighter said. "You can't prove any of it. All we can say is that your squadron, who through his confession admitted to having deceived all of you, disobeyed a direct order to maintain communications silence and stay within the blockade."

Jaina's voice was quickly rising in volume, "If we hadn't done that Naolin would have taken Coruscant!"

"Again, you can't prove that!" Darklighter responded. "What we know is that your squadron destroyed an Imperial Remnant Star Destroyer and an entire squadron of TIE Defenders. Do you have any idea what kind of a political nightmare this has caused? Our relations were already strained, then one of our squadrons went rogue and destroyed one of their ships. The Remnant is demanding blood!"

"But that's not what happened!" Jaina protested. "Naolin was in command of that ship and he had splintered off from the Remnant. They were gunning for Coruscant!"

Admiral Darklighter held up a hand, trying to calm her down, "Off the record, Jaina, I believe you. I know you're too smart to let someone deceive you like that, and I know Darvix, as irrational and headstrong as he is, wouldn't do something as crazy as become a mutineer. We simply cannot prove what you have told us, and someone has to take the fall because of that."

"But we were all in on it," Jaina said. "We all knew there would be repercussions. It's not fair that he has to take the entire brunt of the punishment."

"No, it's not fair," Admiral Darklighter admitted, "but…let me frame it for you like this. Major Zorvan knew exactly what he did when he confessed to those crimes. He knew he was saving your career and sparing you and every pilot in your squadron from twenty years in the brig. Whether he's lying or not, Dap just preserved the careers of your entire squadron."

"Again, this is completely off the record," the Admiral pressed his hands together and held them in front of his mouth, "but if I were you, I would let him go through with this. If all of you are blamed by the courts, we'll never uncover the truth of what happened at Jaminere."

Jaina slumped in her chair and tried to rub the exhaustion out of her eyes, "This isn't right, Gavin."

"I know Jaina," Darklighter replied. "Unfortunately there's nothing we can do. The rules and the laws are working against us this time… Welcome to bureaucracy. Something goes wrong, and someone has to pay for it."

***

* * *

Three weeks later Jaina and the other senior officers of Rogue Squadron found themselves sitting in the back of a military tribunal hearing room aboard the _Mon Mothma_. At the front of the room was the panel of judges that would rule on Darvix's case and sentence. Among them were high ranking officials from both the government and the military. Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces Sien Sovv. Third Fleet Line Admiral Gavin Darklighter. Court Justice Candor Arsatz. Chief of State Cal Omas. Each one was an imposing figure in on their own. Together they wielded frightening power to determine the fate of a single individual.

"This Military Tribunal will now convene," Justice Arsatz said. "Defendant, please state your rank, full name, assigned unit, and serial identification number."

Darvix approached the podium, leaning into the microphone, "Major Darvix Arias Zorvan, Executive Officer of Rogue Squadron. Serial identification number Three-Nine-Oh-Seven-Theta-Nine-Gamma-Epsilon."

Jaina felt sick as she watched Darvix stand before the tribunal. There he was, clad in the attire of a prisoner. To them he was nothing more than a criminal to be processed. In their eyes, he was guilty. The evidence was clear, he had engineered a plan to escape Jaminere and punch through a blockade to destroy an Imperial Remnant vessel. Such acts could be interpreted as a declaration of war between two factions with historically tense relations. Someone had to pay the price in order to preserve the peace.

"Major Zorvan," Cal Omas spoke next, "You stand accused of two counts of intelligence fabrication, one count of mutiny, and one count of treason. On the first count of intelligence fabrication, altering orders to have your squadron leave your assigned world of Jaminere, how do you plead?"

She watched as Darvix looked Omas straight in the eyes, "Guilty."

"On the second charge of intelligence fabrication, doctoring and distributing orders to destroy an Imperial Remnant Star Destroyer, how do you plead?"

"Guilty," he repeated.

"On the lone charge of mutiny, subverting your superior officer to follow through with the false intelligence and orders, how do you plead?"

"Guilty," His eyes remained locked on the Supreme Commander.

Omas continued, "On the lone charge of treason, violating a Galactic Alliance blockade and communications blackout to broker a supply deal with non Alliance Affiliated parties, how do you plead?"

"Guilty."

"Major Zorvan, you have pleaded guilty to all charges set against you," Admiral Darklighter said. "Are you certain this is how you wish to plea?"

"Yes," Darvix said. "I hereby plead guilty to all charges set against me."

Justice Arsatz addressed him once more, "This tribunal recognizes that the defendant pleads guilty to all charges set forth against him. The tribunal was aware of the defendant's plea before proceedings began, and therefore we are prepared to pass down sentence. Major Zorvan, this will be your last opportunity to plead for leniency from this panel. We have already met with Jaminere Senator Adan Mentzer behind closed doors, and by the laws of this military court system we are required to tell you that he has asked for the harshest sentence as permitted by law."

"The charges you have just plead guilty to are the gravest that can be set against a member of this military," Cal Omas said. "I suggest you take this opportunity to address us, Major."

Jaina was taken aback by the confidence Darvix appeared to show. He knew what the maximum sentence for these crimes were, so how could he possibly be this calm? Had he already accepted his fate? What could he possibly say now to sway their decision? The feeling of nausea in Jaina's stomach grew worse. She couldn't stand to watch one of her own pilots be condemned for crimes he did not commit, yet there was nothing she could do. Darvix was on his own now.

"I grew up on an Imperial controlled world," Darvix said. "I saw a lot of terrible things happen around me. I suffered through more hardship in the first ten years of my life than any single person should have to bear in their lifetime. When I defected to the New Republic, I made a promise to myself. As long as I was alive I swore that no one around me would ever have to suffer like I did."

"I joined the New Republic Navy so I could protect those that mattered to me," he continued. "I became a Jedi Knight so I could magnify that calling. I have always acted with the best interests of those that were close to me in mind. I can promise you that I was always loyal to the New Republic, just like I am now loyal to the Galactic Alliance. These government entities exist to promote the welfare of those I love."

To Jaina, it felt as if the temperature in the room had decreased by a few degrees as Darvix fixed each member of the panel with an icy stare. The part of her that didn't pity her executive officer admired him. In the face of the punishment he knew was coming, he still stood up for what he believed in. She only hoped that his words could persuade them into offering him some sort of leniency in their sentence. Everyone watching that tribunal knew there was no escaping punishment, they could only hope he would receive a lesser punishment.

"Because these entities exist to promote the welfare of those I love," Darvix said, "I will remain loyal to it. I will always act with the best interests of the Galactic Alliance and its military in mind. So long as the government and the military acts in a manner that both protects and serves its people."

"Your narrowly defined laws have branded me a mutineer and a traitor," he continued. "Though I am entirely loyal and devoted to the cause of the Galactic Alliance, I cannot stand idly by while bureaucracy puts every last one of us in jeopardy. I cannot prove to you the danger all of the Alliance was in. I cannot prove my conspiracy theory that members of the Alliance Senate were involved in the assault on Jaminere."

Darvix looked at the podium for a moment before speaking up again, "I can only give you my word as an officer of this military and a Jedi Master of our government that I would not have acted in the manner I did unless I was certain the lives of those close to me and the safety of the Alliance was at risk."

"Do not question my loyalty and devotion," he warned. "However, I cannot abide by laws and orders that allow tragedies like Jaminere to happen, or allow threats to pass by us as we wade through legal stumbling blocks."

"I stand by what I did!" Darvix slammed his fists down upon the podium. "If you wish to label me a traitor for protecting the Alliance, so be it... I would do it all over again."

Murmurs filled the tribunal room. Nearly every man and woman present had been shocked by Darvix's emotional outburst. Jaina herself had seen him speak passionately before, but never like this. As she looked at the other Rogues present, she saw a somber expression on each of their faces. They knew that there would be no leniency for Darvix. Rather than begging for forgiveness, he chose to justify his actions. Darvix Zorvan was a man of strong personal convictions who lived by his own code of ethics.

She was worried that was going to cost him dearly.

"This tribunal will adjourn for the day and reconvene tomorrow at 0900 hours to deliver sentence," Justice Arsatz said. "Bailiff, please escort Major Zorvan back to his cell."

Jaina watched as Darvix was escorted away. As he passed her, he looked at her briefly. There was no mistaking the determination in his eyes. He was not about to go down without a fight.

***

* * *

"Are we going to do anything about this?" Pash asked as he stared at his drink sitting atop the bar.

Jaina shook her head, "Nothing we can do. We don't have any evidence to refute the crimes he just plead guilty to. As far as Alliance Command is concerned, he pulled a fast one on us and tricked us into destroying a helpless Imperial Remnant Star Destroyer."

Shortly after the proceedings at the tribunal the senior Rogue Squadron officers had retreated to a enlisted officer's bar aboard the _Mon Mothma_. Each one of them felt differing degrees of disgust. Some were merely bitter, others were furious. At times like these there was only one refuge for an angry pilot: at a bar with a cold mug of booze in front of them. It was escapism defined. When something terrible was out of your control, drink until you forgot about the troubles of the Galaxy around you.

"You can bet the Remnant wants this covered up," Inyri said, throwing down a shotglass filled with a hard drink. "If word got out that one of their captains went rogue and stole a Star Destroyer to invade Alliance territory, they would have a disaster on their hands."

"This is perfect for them," Jaina signaled for the bartender to bring her another drink. "They don't have to admit one of their finest officers was hellbent on taking Coruscant and they get to pin the blame for the loss of one of their Star Destroyers on an Alliance officer."

"What about Jaminere?" Inyri asked. "It seems like High Command has forgotten all about that."

"They don't care," Jaina said as she tossed a few credit chits down on the bar as her drink arrived. "The Senate voted to lift the blockade and relief supplies are being shipped there. They can't be bothered to figure out what happened now…Making sure Zorvan is put in front of a firing squad is their highest priority now."

Pash shook his head, "Whatever you do, don't read the newsfeeds. Senators from all over the Galaxy are calling for Dap's head."

"Someone has to take the fall," Jaina remarked bitterly.

"It should be all of us," Inyri noted.

Jaina sighed and took a long drink from her mug of brandy, "It's better for the Alliance to pin the blame on one person. They couldn't handle the media fallout if every member of Rogue Squadron was thrown into the brig over this. It's too late for us to try and help him."

Someone always needed to be blamed when something went wrong. Bureaucracy at it's finest. If the administrative paper-pushers weren't hampering progress with their numerous rules and ordinances, they were seeking to deflect responsibility when their red tape caused problems. This time it was Jaminere. Why the Senate had chosen to blockade the planet and shut down communications she didn't understand. Instead of bringing help to the people of that planet, they chose to hide behind a military blockade. All that mattered to the politicians was that they appeared to be doing something productive. After all, Jaminere was nothing more than an outer-rim planet with no distinguishing traits.

"Did you hear who pushed for the blockade?" Pash asked.

Jaina looked up from her drink, "No. Who?"

"Jaminere Senator Adan Mentzer," Pash said. "In his rush to stop a non-existing slave trafficking program in its tracks, he ended up preventing us from doing our jobs."

"Typical politician," Inyri scoffed. "Missing the constellation for the star field."

None of this sat right with Jaina, "For someone who was so eager to work with Rogue Squadron, you'd think he'd want to give us a chance to offer status reports every now and then. As soon as we got to Jaminere we were caught in the blockade and communication blackout."

"…It was almost like he knew what were flying into," Inyri commented.

"Vader's Bones," Pash rubbed his eyes. "He used us to get the entire fleet's attention."

"What are you saying?" Inyri asked. "The blockade and trapping us there was just some sort of publicity stunt?"

"I don't know what he was after," Jaina said quietly. "All I know is that it's damn suspicious, but we don't have anything to implicate him."

Pash raised his glass of brandy, "To bureaucracy, empowering the greedy and making our jobs more perilous one pointless ordinance at a time."

Jaina threw down the rest of her drink. She was tempted to order another one.

***

* * *

The next morning Jaina and the other Rogues were back in the tribunal hearing room. As the guards brought Darvix back in, she noticed that he still had the same determined look in his eyes. He seemed almost defiant, ready to denounce whatever ruling was passed on him. No doubt he had heard of the stories that had been spreading throughout the newsfeeds. The media had already branded him a treacherous mutineer, a disgrace to the Alliance's finest squadron of pilots. Wild speculation had begun to circulate as to why he supposedly committed the crimes he had confessed to. Some said he was a relic of the Rebelion era, unable to let go of his grudge against the Empire. Others thought he was mentally unstable, a conspiracy theorist willing to go to extreme lengths to prove his point. In the court of popular opinion, Darvix had already lost.

"This military tribunal will now reconvene," Justice Arsatz said. "Major Zorvan, as you were aware this panel was ready to pass sentencing on you during yesterday's proceedings. After your testimony, Admiral Darklighter motioned for the tribunal to break for recess to deliberate once more."

"We have come to a decision regarding your sentencing," Arsatz continued. "I will now read the written statements from each panel member before issuing your sentence."

The Justice picked up a datapad, "The written statement of Supreme Commander of the Armed Forces Sien Sovv: It is of my opinion that Major Darvix Zorvan should be stripped of his commission as an officer of the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances' Navy. Major Zorvan's behavior placed his entire unit as well as the population of Jaminere in extreme jeopardy. Such a blatant disregard for the regulations of the military and orders of Alliance High Command cannot be tolerated. When questioned, the Major pleaded guilty to the charge of mutiny, the single most egregious crime an officer can commit. Because of this, Major Zorvan must face the harshest punishment allowable by law. I recommend the death penalty."

Jaina covered her face with her hands as the Justice continued, "The written statement of Chief of State Cal Omas: In brokering a deal with non Galactic Alliance affiliated parties to smuggle unknown supplies through a Senate-sanctioned blockade, and in attempting to place responsibility for these actions on retired General Wedge Antilles and retired Colonel Tycho Celchu, Major Zorvan has committed the extraordinary crime of treason against the Galactic Alliance. Such behavior regardless of circumstance cannot be tolerated. In his haste to promote his own selfish agenda, Major Zorvan placed the welfare of an entire Alliance controlled world in extreme jeopardy. It is of my opinion that he should face the harshest allowable penalty, the death sentence."

"The dissenting written statement of Third Line Admiral Gavin Darklighter: In certain cases, the letter of the law is not sufficient. Major Zorvan believed that his squadron and the Galactic Alliance as a whole was in danger, and because of this he was obligated to act beyond the scope of his orders. There is no question that a great tragedy occurred on Jaminere. When Alliance ordinances prevented him from offering assistance to those who were suffering, he was forced to subvert the law. Though we cannot know for certain whether or not the Imperial Remnant Star Destroyer Rogue Squadron destroyed by his urging was a threat, it is of my opinion that Major Zorvan acted with the best interests of his squadron mates and the Alliance in mind. The Major did violate several laws and ordinances, but because of the extraordinary circumstances he was facing, I believe he deserves leniency. I recommend that Major Zorvan receive a dishonorable discharge from the Galactic Alliance Navy and serve one year in solitary confinement."

Jaina had no doubt that the Admiral's dissent would be interpreted as favoritism. Darklighter had done himself no favors by recommending anything short of the death penalty. The moment he left the tribunal the news media would be ready to question him. Why was he so soft on a traitor of the Alliance? Still, Jaina appreciated what he had done. She knew that there were few people in the Galaxy still on his side. Having someone of Gavin Darklighter's stature sticking up for him had to come as a small comfort. Now it all came down to Justice Arsatz's opinion. If he recommended something other than the death penalty, it meant that the tribunal panel was likely deadlocked and had been forced to settle on a lesser punishment. If not, Darvix's fate was sealed.

"I will now read my statement and pronounce a sentence," Justice Arsatz said. "It is clear that you felt you were acting in the right. I sympathize with you in that regard, your heart was in the right place and your intentions were sound. However, I cannot condone acts of vigilante justice, especially coming from a commissioned officer of our armed forces. You were bound to carry yourself in an orderly manner. Your intentions became your own agenda, apart from the stated goals of the Galactic Alliance military. In front of this panel you confessed to charges of intelligence fabrication, mutiny, and treason. Precedence has established what sentence must be given to you."

"Major Darvix Arias Zorvan," the Justice set his datapad down and looked straight at Darvix, "This tribunal finds you guilty of all charges: two counts of intelligence fabrication, one count of mutiny, and one count of treason against the Galactic Alliance. You are hereby sentenced to execution by firing squad. This sentence will be carried out precisely one standard month from today."

Jaina felt numb as Darvix left the tribunal room with the armed guards. She watched as Admiral Darklighter burst out of his seat, yelling at the justice for delivering such a harsh punishment. Whereas he was completely livid, Jaina wasn't sure how to feel. One of her pilots had just been condemned to die for a set of crimes he didn't commit. No, he was condemned to die in order to spare her career and the careers of every pilot in Rogue Squadron.

This was all wrong, but there wasn't a thing she could do about it.


	23. The End of a Life

**Chapter 21 – The End of a Life **

Darvix stumbled into the small isolation cell, turning around quickly to look at the guard. Before he could argue the containment field went active, trapping him inside. Sighing, he took a seat on the hard bed. Out of the corner of his eye he saw two furry, lizard like animals in the corner of the cell. He recognized them as ysalamiri, a unique creature that possessed the power to literally repel the Force. These guards had done their homework. Even if he had plans of escaping, he wouldn't be able to call upon the Force to help him. He wouldn't be able to come up with a clever plan of escape this time.

Idly he wondered when reality would sink in. Just minutes ago a military tribunal had sentenced him to death for the crimes he had admitted to. He knew that he could have argued his case, but doing so would have put the rest of Rogue Squadron in jeopardy. Besides, he knew that if all of them were in the brig, no one would try to uncover the truth concerning the events at Jaminere. He had to fall on his own lightsaber, as it were. He assumed this was the best outcome imaginable. The Imperial Remnant got the blood they were looking for, the Alliance avoided a public relations disaster, and the other Rogues would be able to continue their careers.

Everyone else would move on without him. An uneasy feeling began forming within Darvix. Slowly he began to realize that he wasn't ready to die. There was still so much time left, so many things to accomplish. He wasn't prepared to give up flying or scouring the galaxy for clues to an obscure mystery. There were so many puzzles out there that had yet to be solved. He thought he was prepared, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn't give up living.

Darvix couldn't wrap his mind around it. There was a precise finite amount of time left in his life: one standard month. That was all the time he had to come to terms with his pending execution. He couldn't possibly prepare for his life to end in that brief period. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment before burying his head in his hands, trying in vain to choke back the tears. Darvix knew that his punishment, in isolation, wasn't fair. At the same time, he wondered if this was perhaps the Galaxy evening the score. Fourteen years ago he prematurely ended the life of his mother. Now his life was about to be extinguished long before it should be.

How could it be that a journey that had begun just fifteen years earlier would end like this?

"These are the things that happen when you interfere with the Emperor's will," a voice said from beyond the cell barrier.

Darvix looked up. On the other side of the barrier was Senator Mentzer of Jaminere. "The Emperor is dead, Senator," Darvix bitterly replied. "The Galaxy rejected his will long ago."

"Why is it that smart men like yourself cannot see what is best for you?" the Senator asked. "I suppose I can't expect Jedi scum like yourself to understand."

"I'm not a Jedi," Darvix replied. "I gave up that calling months ago…If you're here to gloat over my demise, at least take a few moment's to answer a doomed man's questions."

The Senator offered a wiry smile, "Of course, Mr. Zorvan. It is the least a Gentleman of the Empire can do."

"Why did you sacrifice Jaminere?"

"Why? Because I had to," Mentzer seemed taken aback by the question. "You Rebels were investing so many ships into protecting Coruscant, a world that doesn't belong to you. We needed to…distract you for a short while so the Empire could reclaim what is rightly ours."

Darvix jumped to his feet, quickly approaching the barrier, "Thousands of people died!"

"An unfortunate but entirely justifiable sacrifice," the Senator responded. "We must all give up important things from time to time for the Emperor's glory."

"You're insane!" Darvix snapped.

"I'm insane?" Mentzer raised a brow. "You're the one who about caused a war between the Empire and the Alliance. You pleaded guilty to treason just to save your little friends."

Darvix felt his hands clenching into fists, "They're going to take you down, Mentzer. They will crush you just like they crushed Naolin."

"You have no proof, Mr. Zorvan," Mentzer replied as he began to walk away. "All you have is your word, and who is going to believe a mutineering traitor?"

***

* * *

It had been two weeks since Darvix had been locked up in isolation, awaiting the day in which he would be placed in front of a firing squad to pay for the crimes he had plead guilty to. He pressed his back against the wall as he sat on his bed, glaring at the two ysalamiri tucked in the far corner of the cell. He hadn't realized how much he would miss the Force, or even how much it had become a part of him. Without it he felt a certain sense of anxiety (how it was possible to feel additional anxiety while facing a death sentence was beyond him). Being without it kept him up at night. At one point during his time at the Jedi Academy, Master Skywalker had described the Force as being a comforter of sorts.

Darvix was beginning to believe him. He could really use its presence now.

"Hey," a voice said quietly from beyond the isolation cell barrier.

He looked to his right, smiling faintly at his visitor, "Hello, Kasari."

"How are you holding up?" She asked.

"Three meals a day, a bed to sleep on," Darvix shrugged. "I've been in less pleasant places."

Kasari laughed softly. How long had they known each other? In Darvix's first year at the Jedi Academy he had discovered a bright, young Jedi padawan who had all the promise in the world. She was as savvy as any student he had encountered; all she lacked was experience in the Galaxy itself. He had chosen to take Kasari under his wing as his student, training her not in the ways of the Force (for she was a far more skilled Jedi than he could ever hope to be) but rather in the ways of the Galaxy. Darvix shook his head as he realized that had been nearly twelve years ago.

"Has it really been that long?" he asked.

Kasari tilted her head to the side, "Has what really been that long?"

"The two of us," Darvix shifted positions to face her. "I thought I would have managed to drive you off by now."

"I'm a tough girl," she responded. "It takes more than your misanthropic attitude to scare me off."

The two were quiet for a moment before Darvix finally spoke up, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

""Why did you agree to fly for Rogue Squadron?" he asked.

Kasari pondered for a moment before replying, "I was worried about you."

_Worried about me?_ Darvix asked himself, "You agreed to join the squadron so you could keep an eye on me?"

"Let's be honest, Dap," she continued, "You're not the most level-headed person in the Galaxy. Sure, you're plenty bright, but you have a tendency to rush into things head-first the moment you determine you have a greater than fifty percent chance of survival."

Darvix frowned, "I know my limits, Kasari."

"No, you really don't," Kasari objected. "You give your all to a task you've committed yourself to, and I admire that about you…but sometimes you push yourself too hard. Do you remember what happened on Lehon?"

Lehon. Back in those days, Darvix had been a spice-addict. It had begun innocently enough. An injection once a day to keep his mind sharp. One injection a day became two, two became four. It got to the point where he needed a powerful dose every hour to keep his wits about him. One day he found himself exploring an ancient building on the ocean world of Lehon. Hours away from his X-Wing he realized that he had forgotten the case of spice he normally carried with him. It only took minutes for withdrawal symptoms to kick in.

His chemically addled brain wasn't prepared for such the sudden lack of drugs. At one point he hallucinated the image of his mother before blacking out. When he had come to, Kasari was standing over him. Though he had left her behind at the Academy, she had followed him across the Galaxy to watch over him, fearful that something would happen to him. That day her persistence saved his life. Not long after Darvix had blacked out, his heart stopped beating. Somehow Kasari managed to find him in time and resuscitate him before he was too far gone.

"I thought I had lost you that day…" Kasari said quietly. "That scared me, Dap."

She had always been at his side, Darvix slowly realized. Despite all of the harsh words, all of the danger he had dragged her into, she remained is companion. At that moment an overwhelming sense of gratitude washed over him. Kasari could have easily left years ago to pursue safer work and to deal with less volatile people. Despite all of that, she had chosen to keep watch over him and ensure he always remained grounded firmly in reality.

"And now you've gone and pleaded guilty to some contrived crime you didn't commit," Kasari said, a hint of anger in her voice.

Darvix stood and walked towards the barrier, folding his arms across his chest, "It was my fault we were even there. It wouldn't be fair to the rest of you if you were punished for my recklessness."

"We knew what we were getting into!" Kasari protested. "Every one of us had the chance to stay behind, but we all chose to take Naolin down!"

"You shouldn't have even been in a position to have to make that decision," he replied. "I'm not going to stand idly by and watch as people are punished who don't deserve to be…" his eyes locked on Kasari's, "especially people that are as important to me as you are."

Darvix was taken aback by her reaction, "You're a damn fool!" She yelled, her hands balled into fists at her side. "Have you ever stopped to think for a moment that maybe, just maybe, there are people out there who actually care about you? I know, it's an absurd thought, someone might actually give a damn about a shallow, manipulative bastard like yourself."

"I don't even know what I'm saying anymore!" Kasari managed to laugh as she hung her head and choked back tears. "I don't understand why this hurts so much. You're a stuck up, egotistical, misanthropic ass that's too wrapped up in solving puzzles to worry about himself, much less anyone around him… Yet here I am, completely incapable of letting you go."

"Please, Dap," she begged, "don't go through with this…"

He held his hand up against the barrier, shaking his head, "I'm not going to let you rot in a cell like this for twenty years, Kasari."

"I'm not ready to go on without you," Kasari said through pained sobs. "We've worked together for twelve years…I have no idea what to do without-"

Darvix interrupted, "You were the best student I could have hoped for. You've come so far in that time… There's nothing more I can teach you, nothing more I can offer."

"Nothing more you can offer, huh?" she looked up at Darvix, placing her own hand against the barrier, mirroring his. "You really don't get it, do you?" She shook her head, "Weren't you the one who taught me to look past the surface and find the deeper meaning?"

"I see the deeper meaning," Darvix said quietly, "if things had played out differently, maybe…" he trailed off for a moment, "this is pointless, you know. Neither of us can change what's already happened."

Kasari shook her head, offering a strained smile, "Force help me. There have been times I've wanted to slap you and your cold, hard logic."

"I'm sure that's not the only reason you've wanted to slap me over the years," he replied. "Kasari…I'm sorry I've dragged you into this. I'm sorry I've been ignoring you for the past three months, I just… I didn't want to hurt you."

"You're on death row and telling me to deal with it so you can feel better about screwing up," Kasari deadpanned. "I'd say you're not doing a very good job if your goal is to make sure I'm not hurt."

Darvix chuckled, "No, I suppose I'm not."

"Visiting hours are over," A guard said as he approached Darvix's cell.

Kasari rubbed her red eyes with her sleeves, "Dap, I-"

"I know," Darvix replied. At that moment, words didn't need to be exchanged. They both knew exactly how they felt.

***

* * *

Darvix couldn't stomach down his last meal. He had thrown up twice trying to eat. Was this normal for someone who knew they only had one hour left to live? How was one supposed to feel if they knew their death was minutes away? Over the last month he had try to come to terms with his looming execution. He tried to convince himself that he was ready, but every time the thought came up he found himself feeling ill. Now sadness and anger had finally given way to full-on panic. They couldn't kill him. He wasn't ready to die. He didn't _deserve_ to die.

He sat in his cell for the last time, his heart racing and breathing shallow. He knew he was supposed to hit a point of acceptance, so why hadn't that happened yet? Why was he still trying to find a way out of his execution? When the guards had hauled him back to his cell he had pleaded with them to set him free. They ignored him, gruffly throwing him back into isolation until the time came to bring him to the firing range. This wasn't right. It wasn't his time. Why didn't the Alliance see that? He may have broken the rules, but he had to! Coruscant would have fallen into the wrong hands if he hadn't acted.

In his peripheral vision, he saw a figure walk past his cell. He looked up and saw a woman in a guard's uniform. Darvix's heart nearly failed as he realized who it was. Cheriss ke Hanadi looked at him briefly as she reached into the pocket of her uniform jacket, pulling out a silver cylinder and letting it drop to the floor. He jumped to his feet and rushed to the barrier of his cell, watching as she exited the hallway of the brig. Moments later the barrier wall deactivated. Carefully he stepped out of his cell, glancing to his left and right. At the end of the hallway were two guards laying unconscious on the ground. Darvix knelt down to pick up the silver cylinder.

It was his lightsaber. He rolled it over in his hands, feeling the cool, smooth surface of the weighted hilt. He stood dumbfounded. How had Cheriss snuck in and left this weapon sitting on the floor? How had she managed to deactivate his cell barrier? More importantly, why had she done that? If she was caught the consequences would be dire. He looked down at the lightsaber again and wondered what he was supposed to do with it. Slowly the fog in his mind began to clear.

_That's right,_he said to himself. _I should escape._

With a snap-hiss, he ignited his lightsaber and rushed back into his cell, staring down the two ysalamiri that had tormented him for the last month. The green blade sliced through them without effort. Suddenly it felt as if a wall of water had slammed into Darvix as the Force came rushing back into him. How he had missed its presence! He closed his eyes for a moment and simply reveled in the feeling of having it surround him once more. It was a calming touch that he had desperately needed. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, his mind was clear. It was time to free himself.

Darvix rushed down the hallway. As he approached the door that led to the processing room, a klaxon alarm sounded. They knew he was loose. He felt a grin form on his lips. _Try and stop me._ As he rushed through the doorway he was met with a wall of blaster fire from the guards. He quickly brought his lightsaber up to deflect the blaster shots. As he stretched out with the Force it felt as if time was slowing down. He could sense every shot coming at him and knew just where to position the blade. Never before had his concentration been this heightened. He battled forward as if his life depended on it.

It did, of course.

Wounded guards were left in his wake as he left the prisoner processing facility. He was in the general access corridors of the _Mon Mothma_ Directly above him were the hangers where the ship's starfighers were stored. If he could just make it up there he could hijack a fighter and make a break for hyperspace. He sprinted down the hallway, only to be turned back by blaster fire. More guards were descending upon him. He could move that way, but he couldn't backtrack either. What would he do now?

"Dap!" a voice whispered from above him. "Up here, the maintenance shafts!"

He looked to his left and spotted a wall-mounted ladder that led up to the maintenance tubes of the starship. The hatch above the ladder opened and a hand waved for him to climb up. Darvix knew better than to waste time as he made his way into the crawlspace. As he tried to relegate his breathing, he looked forward and saw Pash Cracken in front of him.

"No time to waste, we've got to get you into Hangar Beta," Pash said as he crawled forward.

"What do you think you're doing?" Darvix asked. "I saw Cheriss in the prison wards…She left my lightsaber there and shut down the containment field."

Pash glanced over his shoulder at Darvix, "just bending a few rules."

"Breaking out a prisoner that's sitting on Death Row is bending a few rules?" Darvix asked.

"Well, if they think this is entirely your doing it kind of is," Pash grinned. "Ooryl found some old slicer code you wrote up on your first stint with Rogue Squadron. Turns out it was well suited to shutting down a prison barrier field."

"You're out of your mind," Darvix said, exasperated.

"It's no fun if you're the only one who gets to break the rules," Pash objected. "Here we are. Take this ladder up one level and move down about five meters. That should drop you off right in the hangar. The X-Wing closest to you has a flightsuit and a helmet sitting next to the front landing strut. We've got it rigged to begin a startup sequence in about one minute, so you've got to hurry."

Darvix stared at Pash for a moment, "You didn't have to do this."

"Yes, we did," Pash replied. "Now go."

Darvix nodded and climbed up the ladder then down the next maintenance shaft. He kicked out the shaft cover and climbed out, finding himself inside the hangar where Rogue Squadron's X-Wings were stored. He spotted the starfighter closest to him and sure enough, on the ground beside the front landing strut was an orange flightsuit and a flight helmet. He sprinted towards the X-Wing and picked up the flightsuit, hastily throwing it on and climbing into the cockpit of the starfighter.

He was greeted by the familiar trill of an R2 unit, "Zone, is that you?"

The droid chirped an affirmative.

"I missed you too, friend," Darvix said. "Looks like we're about set to go. This is probably going to get a little wild, so I need you to transfer all power from weapons to shields."

"Send it all to the engines," a familiar voice said.

He looked to his left. There leaning against the cockpit was Cheriss, "What are you doing here?"

"Making sure you get out of here in one piece," Cheriss said. "We've pulled out the proton torpedoes to lighten this ship up. Make sure you've got all of your power sent to the engines."

"They're going to send someone after me," Darvix protested. "If my shields aren't up I'm dead."

"You're going to be fine, just trust me," Cheriss said. Moments later the hangar's klaxon alarm began to sound. "Get out of here!"

Darvix grabbed her hand as she attempted to jump down to the floor, "Cheriss…"

"What?"

"Thank you."

She looked at him for a brief moment and nodded, biting down on her lower lip to keep herself from crying. Darvix let go of her hand and allowed her to get clear. As soon as she was a safe distance away he activated the X-Wing's repulsorlifts and retracted the landing struts. In the distance he could see the hangar door. There wasn't any time to spare. He threw the throttle forward as far as it would go, causing him to barrel towards the exit. Quickly he snap-rolled the ship onto its port-side S-Foils.

He just managed to escape the closing hangar doors. Frantically he began to calculate a hyperspace route. If he didn't hurry the _Mon Mothma_ would scramble other starfighers to intercept him. Darvix had come too far for it to end here. He was going to escape and nothing was going to stop him. Suddenly two pairs of red laser cannon blasts shot past his canopy. As he looked at his sensors he saw that two ships were quickly approaching him. He threw his X-Wing into a defensive roll, trying to buy some time as the navicomputer worked out a set of hyperspace coordinates.

"You know I'm obligated to tell you to shut down your X-Wing," Jaina Solo's voice said over the radio.

"I think we're also obligated to shoot him down if he doesn't," Inyri followed up.

Darvix shook his head, "I can't let you do that, Colonel."

"Oh you won't have to worry about that," Jaina responded. "Looks like my weapons systems have malfunctioned. What about you, Inyri?"

"How about that, my laser cannons are offline," she replied. "What a shame."

Darvix's jaw dropped. They were going to let him escape, "I can't believe you're doing this."

"Dap if there's one thing you've taught me," Jaina said, "it's that sometimes…you've got to ignore the rules and do what's right."

"We weren't going to stand idly by and let you take the fall, Zorvan," Inyri said. "Now get out of here."

"How can I possibly repay you…?" Darvix asked as he looked down at his flightstick, trying to clear the tears out of his eyes.

Jaina responded, "That's easy, Dap. Go find proof to show the Galaxy you did the right thing."

"Colonel, you have my thanks," Darvix said somberly. "Rogue Squadron is in good hands. You're going to be a brilliant commanding officer."

"Thank you, Dap," Jaina replied. "Now get the hell out of here. May the Force be with you."

The navigation computer began to beep incessantly. He had the coordinates he needed to escape. As he looked over his shoulder he watched Inyri and Jaina peel away to return to the Mon Mothma. He would never be able to fully repay the debt he owed his friends. They had given him a mandate by helping him to escape. Each one of them had ordered Darvix to survive. He wasn't about to disappoint them. Darvix threw the hyperdrive lever forward and disappeared into hyperspace.

At the moment he slipped into the relative safety of hyperspace a part of Darvix's life came to an abrupt, unceremonious end. Dap Zorvan, ace pilot and Jedi Knight, was no more.


	24. The Fringe

**Chapter 22: The Fringe**

Darvix glanced up at the canopy-mounted chronometer. Two minutes to real-space reversion. For the better part of two months he had been jumping from star system to star system in an attempt to avoid detection by the Galactic Alliance. He was a wanted man now. His face was plastered throughout the Galaxy. Media outlets told every man, woman, and child of the price placed on his head. An enormous reward would be bestowed upon the person who captured him and handed him over to the Alliance. No doubt he was high on the list of every bounty hunter in the Galaxy. He hoped that he had done a good enough job hiding.

He knew that there was only one place he could turn. Few people were capable of hiding someone of Darvix's notoriety. The one person he could think of was a man he already owed a great debt to. Darvix was prepared to pay the price. With no where left to go and no one left to trust, his options were few. The chronometer sounded and Darvix placed his hand on the hyperdrive lever, pulling it back to revert his X-Wing to real-space. The molten black and blue of hyperspace gave way to a brilliant stream of stars before settling into the black backdrop of space. He found himself in the Ione system, a star cluster located deep in the Outer Rim Territories. It was a sparsely populated sector of the Galaxy, perfect for someone who was looking to hide.

Ahead of him was the outline of a large transport ship. As he drew closer to it, Darvix could make out the figure of a heavily modified Corellian Engineering Corporation Action VI transport. It was an imposing vessel. The laser-scored hull and turbolaser turrets marked it as a ship that was not to be trifled with. Darvix brought his X-Wing around the front of the transport, tipping his starfighter from S-foil to S-foil as a greeting. He adjusted the microphone on his helmet and opened a hailing frequency.

"Wild Karrde, Wild Karrde come in," Darvix said.

"This is the Wild Karrde," a gruff voice responded over the radio. "Identify yourself."

"This is…" Darvix paused for a moment. How was he supposed to identify himself? He was no longer Rogue Eleven or even a member of the Alliance military. He couldn't use his credentials as a Jedi Master either. "This is Darvix Zorvan. Tell Karrde I need to come aboard."

His radio was silent for a few moments before the Wild Karrde responded, "Docking permission granted. Proceed to airlock two and await further instruction."

"Acknowledged, Wild Karrde," Darvix replied.

Darvix eased back on his throttle and began his deliberate approach. He nudged the flightstick forward, causing the nose of his X-Wing to dip below the _Wild Karrde_. Carefully he began to line the canopy of his cockpit with the airlock above him. He squeezed off a brief firing of his repulsorlifts, gently urging the X-Wing upwards and into contact with the airlock. The clamps on the _Wild Karrde_ took hold of his starfighter and the docking module descended and sealed around the cockpit. With a loud, hissing sound, atmosphere was let into the small tunnel. Two green lights above him signaled that it was safe to open the canopy.

As he undid the straps holding him into his flightseat, the airlock door opened. Darvix stood and took hold of the ladder that lowered towards him, climbing up it and into the _Wild Karrde_. It was a relief to be out of the cockpit. The tight confines could be maddening on routine trips, but spending two months largely confined in a cramped cockpit was enough to give a pilot nightmares. He reached into the air, stretching for the first time in ages. He winced as he felt his back pop in several locations. Darvix definitely was not the limber young pilot he used to be.

"Treason and mutiny," a voice from behind Darvix said. "I must admit, I'm impressed. I knew you had a knack for getting into trouble but this is a whole new level for you."

Darvix smiled faintly at Talon Karrde, "Well, it was only a matter of time before I wound up before a military tribunal. Who knew I'd be looking at the death sentence?"

"Based on the sludgenews reports, I'd say everyone within five parsecs of a civilized star system," Karrde replied, patting Darvix on the shoulder. "How are you holding up?"

"Well I pleaded guilty to a set of crimes that never happened," Darvix noted, "was sentenced to death by a firing squad, spent a month in solitary confinement with a pair of Ysalamiri, broke out, stole military hardware, and then spent two months dodging Alliance security details and military police."

"I'm more or less okay," he deadpanned. "Karrde, is she-"

Karrde held up his hand to silence Darvix, "She's fine. Her wounds have healed up well and she appears to be emotionally stable."

"I need to see her," Darvix said.

"In due time," Karrde replied. "Right now we need to get you taken care of."

Darvix shook his head, "I'm fine, please-"

"I've got temporary quarters prepared for you," Karrde interrupted. "Wash up and get some shuteye… You look like you've seen better days."

***

* * *

Karrde was right. Darvix could hardly recognize the man looking back at him in the mirror. It looked as if he had lost thirty or forty pounds. He hadn't shaven in three months, allowing a full but scraggly beard to form on his face. Dark bags had formed under his eyes from the lack of rest he had gotten over the months. There wasn't any way around it, he looked terrible. He carefully peeled off his flightsuit and stepped into the refresher and into the sonic shower. The hot water against his skin felt wonderful. Not only did it wash away the sweat and grime that covered him, but it seemed as if it breathed new life into him.

He had wandered from system to system in a dull haze for months. Darvix was so consumed by the task of avoiding capture that he hadn't stopped to reflect upon what had happened to him in the six months since he had returned from that ancient Sith space station beyond the reaches of the Galaxy. He had helped to rebuild Rogue Squadron from nothing. Various news sources regularly featured them in their headlines again, detailing their every move. Once again they were the finest unit in all of the Alliance, a squadron every young pilot strived to join.

He had ended the Phantom project once and for all. With Reyov Naolin dead and the Phantom program destroyed for the second time, he was confident no one would attempt to use it against the innocent lives again. With Naolin gone, Coruscant stood safe once more. The Alliance would be able to continue the rebuilding effort and one day would restore the government to its rightful place. It seemed wrong that no one knew the danger Coruscant nor the lengths he and Rogue Squadron had gone to keep it safe. Perhaps it was better that way. The older he got, the more he realized how important obscurity was to him. He no longer wanted to be a part of the spotlight.

Darvix stepped out of the sonic shower and dried himself off. He stood in front of the mirror atop the sink once more, taking another look at himself. On the corner of the sink he noticed a sonic razor. This beard had to go. Several minutes later he stepped back into his room sans facial hair. Exhaustion suddenly hit him like a blaster shot. He had never been this tired before in his life. His muscles and bones ached, his mind was a haze. He didn't remember collapsing on the bed. Darvix fell into a dreamless sleep, allowing his battered body the chance to finally recover from the long months of abuse he had submitted himself to.

***

* * *

The next afternoon Darvix walked onto the bridge of the Wild Karrde. Already he felt a little more life in his step. Nearly eleven hours of sleep and a good, hot meal had done a great deal to reinvigorate his entire being. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this healthy. As he glanced around the bridge, he spotted Talon Karrde in his command chair, glancing over a datapad. Darvix wondered idly what he was working on. Had a client requested an obscure piece of information? Was he working on another project for the Alliance?

He had always been fascinated by Karrde's intelligence operation. Years ago Darvix had found himself on probation with the Jedi Acdademy and was confined to the grounds on Yavin IV. He had been in the middle of a deep investigation and was suddenly unable to continue his research. Desperate to unearth clues, he had hired Talon Karrde to search for information in his place. In exchange, Darvix had agreed to temporarily become a freelance analyst. Every few days Karrde would send him stacks of datapads to sift through. His orders were to find tidbits of information that might fetch a price on the market.

"Ah, hello Mr. Zorvan" Karrde said. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better," Darvix replied honestly. "I can't remember the last time I was able to sleep in a real bed.

"I do apologize for the food quality today," Karrde said as he set down his datapad. "Our reserves have been running somewhat low lately."

Darvix shook his head, "I've been living off of ration bars for the last two months. You could have told me I was eating a filleted Bantha steak and I would have believed you."

"I'm happy to hear you approve," Karrde chuckled, "though I imagine that's not why you're here."

"Kessila…" Darvix said quietly. "Is she onboard the ship?"

"She is," Karrde confirmed. "In fact, she should be here about…"

Darvix looked over his shoulder as the door to the bridge slipped open. In walked a young girl of fourteen. Her shoulder-length black hair was tied back into a ponytail while several loose strands danced around her deep emerald green eyes. The mere sight of her lifted an immense weight off of his shoulders. She had made it off of Jaminere and had fully recovered from her injuries as Karrde had promised him. At least one person had managed to escape that disaster.

"Kess, Darvix," Karrde said. "If you wouldn't mind leaving the bridge for a little while…I've got some business to tend to."

Darvix looked at Kess and nodded. He motioned for her to leave first and followed closely behind. For a long while, the two remained silent, unwilling or unable to utter a word to eachother. Though he was grateful she was doing well, he still found himself racked by guilt over the trouble he had caused her. Fourteen years ago he had murdered her grandmother, her legal guardian. Her grandfather would die while she was only ten years old, leaving her orphaned and alone on a cold and hostile world. If he ever hoped to rid himself of this guilt, he had to set things straight with her.

"I can't begin to express how sorry I am," Darvix said. "You deserved a childhood better than the one you got and that is entirely my fault."

"…You know I've looked into your background while I've been aboard this ship," Kess replied. "You're a pretty interesting figure… Graduated from the Starfighter Academy with top marks, one of the youngest pilots ever to serve in Rogue Squadron, a Jedi Master… You kind of make me jealous. While I was growing up alone you were out having grand adventures."

Darvix remained quiet while she continued, "I also looked into the story you told me, about what grandmother did to your biological father… You know I didn't believe you at first. I refused to believe you. It's no excuse for what you did, but I can understand why you did it."

"Nothing can excuse what I did that night," he admitted. "It's guilt I'll take with me to the grave."

"I was also thinking about the offer you made to me on Jaminere," she said. "Karrde has told me a lot about you since I've been on board. He swears you're a good man, despite what the newsfeeds keep saying about you."

"Did Karrde-"

Kess interrupted him, "Yes, he told me the Alliance made a mistake by sentencing you to death. He told me you were innocent. It's just…I don't understand why you confessed to crimes you didn't commit."

"Why I confessed?" Darvix asked himself. "There were eighteen other men and women who were serving alongside me on Jaminere. When we decided to go after that rogue Star Destroyer, we were violating a very grave order. If we had all be tried, every one of us would have spent the next twenty years of our lives in prison."

"I still don't understand," Kess repeated herself. "Why you? Why did you have to take all of the blame."

Darvix placed a hand on her shoulder, "It was my fault we were at Jaminere to begin with. I offered the squadron's services so I could search for you. When we arrived in the system we had stumbled into a trap set for us by a corrupt member of the Senate. Because we were there, one of our pilots died while trying to repel a second attack on the planet."

"So you blamed yourself," Kess said.

He nodded, "It wasn't fair that the other members of my squadron be punished for a situation I got them into. I took the blame so they would be spared."

"I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, Kess," he continued. "A lot of people have gotten hurt because of me. I can promise you I've always acted with their best interests in mind, but too often I acted impulsively and someone wound up getting hurt as a result."

Darvix stopped in his tracks and looked right at Kess, "That's why I'm asking you to give me a chance. I destroyed your life in one act. I need the chance to help you rebuild it."

Before Kess could respond, the PA speakers came to life, Talon Karrde's voice ringing through them, "Mr. Zorvan, please report to the shuttle hanger. Bring Kess with you."

***

* * *

"I think it's about time to discuss the subject of payment for my services," Karrde said as he carefully navigated the shuttle out of the _Wild Karrde_.

Darvix looked over at Karrde from the co-pilot's seat, a look of confusion on his face, "Where are we going?"

"You'll see, you'll see," Karrde replied. "Now as for the matter of payment… I agreed to take care of Kess while you were off vaping Star Destroyers and having death sentences placed on your head. That's a pretty hefty cost. Not only that, but I agree to hide you from the Alliance. I'd say you owe me a rather substantial debt."

"I've got no credits to give you, Karrde," Darvix said.

Karrde smiled at Darvix, "Oh, I know. That's why as of this moment, you work for me."

"…Excuse me?"

"You've proven to be an exceptional pilot and Jedi over the years," Karrde explained. "It seems you also have a nose for seeking out information and solving puzzles. I don't know if you realize this, but you are a very valuable commodity. Because of that, I'm giving you the option to repay your debt by becoming a member of my organization. Don't worry, though. I'm going to give you the tools you need to succeed. Look ahead."

Darvix looked through the forward viewport. Ahead of the shuttle was a large _Wayferer_-class medium transport. He had seen several of the first Wayferers while he was serving with the Jedi Academy. It was a remarkably versatile ship that was split into two distinct sections, the living and operations module and the hangar bay module. It was a favorite among smugglers to be used as a base of operations. Three single-man starfighters could fit inside the eighty-two meter long hangar bay. Some even stored smaller light-transport crafts inside.

"I intend to have you scour the Galaxy for relics of the past and information that will fetch a tidy sum of credits," Karrde said as he continued his approach. "That is why I'm giving you command of this ship."

"You can't possibly be serious," Darvix replied.

Karrde eased the shuttle into the docking module on the side of the hangar bay, "Oh I am quite serious. I spent years trying to find out where you had vanished to after leaving the Jedi Academy. The work you put together while acting as a freelance analyst was some of the best I had ever seen. I've been hoping to acquire your services for a number of years. It just so happens that I now have you owing me a number of favors."

The shuttle shuddered as the docking clamps locked onto the hull, "Now, why don't we take a look at your new home?"

Darvix followed Karrde and Kess off the shuttle and into the hangar bay. He couldn't believe his eyes. Inside was his X-Wing and the single most beautiful ship he had ever seen in his life. Parked in the largest part of the hangar was a Correlian Engineering Corporation YT-1930 light freighter. The 1930 was a follow up to the largely successful YT-1300 light freighter. The cockpit module on this vessel was aligned with the center of the ship between the two wedge-shaped nose sections. At thirty-five meters, the ship took up nearly half of the hangar bay.

"This big, old Wayfarer is merely a base of operations," Karrde explained. "A rather famous smuggler pointed out the benefits of having a light transport like this YT-1930 at your disposal. You may have heard of him, became rather famous during the Rebellion, but his name slips my mind. I suspect you will conduct the majority of your work out of this transport"

"She's gorgeous," Darvix said as he placed his hand against the cold hull.

Karrde nodded, "She certainly is, and I expect you to take good care of her…Now, let's go meet your crew."

"My crew?" Darvix asked as he followed Karrde out of the hangar bay and into the operations module.

He was astounded by how well designed this Wayferer-class transport was. Five individual rooms to serve as crew quarters. A large galley for meetings and entertainment. He even had his own office. An office! What would he do with it? Should he find some paintings to hang on the wall? Karrde stopped in front of the door to the command bridge, looking between Kess and Darvix. He was starting to feel like a child on his life day as he waited for Karrde to let him onto the bridge. He wondered idly if he was dreaming. Karrde was just handing him a vessel like this in exchange for Darvix's services in his smuggling and information brokering organization.

"A captain of a fine vessel such as this must have a top-notch crew," Karrde explained. "I think you're going to find them to your liking.

Karrde keyed for the door to open and ushered Darvix and Kess onto the bridge. It was a glorious sight. At the front near the viewscreen were two consoles dedicated to the helm and astrogations. In the center was the command chair and the immense computer terminal that surrounded it. He couldn't wait to sit in that seat. He looked to the front once more and noticed a man and a woman sitting at astrogations and the helm respectively.

"Captain on the bridge," Karrde announced.

As the man and the woman stood to face him, he felt his chest tighten. He couldn't believe they were here. How had they known? Why had they followed him? At the astrogations console was his closest friend, Vik Kelrune. At the helm was his former student and dear companion Kasari Lisae. They had served under Darvix on the first ship he had commanded. The three of them had literally gone to the ends of the Galaxy and back together. They had waited for him. Even while he sat in an isolated cell awaiting execution, they had waited for him.

"After the tribunal laid down your sentence we resigned our commissions in protest," Kasari explained.

"We had a feeling the Alliance wouldn't be able to keep you contained," Vik said with a smile. "Kasari and I knew that if you got out, you'd search for Karrde. We tracked him down first and explained what had happened to you."

Darvix couldn't respond. He was simply overwhelmed by the loyalty his two friends had shown him. Karrde cleared his throat to gather everyone's attention, "And no captain of a smuggler vessel is complete without a protégé to guide."

He looked towards Kess, "I met Darvix twelve years ago. In our first meeting he negotiated a deal that allowed credits and supplies to be transported to a world that had been torn apart by natural disasters. Since that day I have always had a deep respect for your uncle. I cannot name a better person to raise you than him."

"Darvix is a brilliant instructor and the most loyal friend I could ask for," Kasari approached Kess. "He taught me how the Galaxy functioned and always encouraged me to seek answers that were shrouded behind mystery. If you agree to stay with us, I promise you will learn a great deal… So what do you say?"

Kess looked at each person aboard the bridge. Darvix watched as the tears welled up in her eyes. For the first time in years, she had found family. She had found someone to take her under their wing. After so many years of living alone Kess had a place to call home. Darvix knew how comforting that feeling was, and he was grateful that he could provide it for her. He placed his hand on her shoulder and looked down at her.

"I can't promise you that no harm will ever come to you again," he said. "I've learned that there are some things that are simply out of my control. What I will promise you is that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and see to it that you become the most complete individual you can possibly be. Please, give me this chance to set things right."

Kess could only nod. She rushed into his arms and threw her own arms around him

"Captain Zorvan, I believe you are set to begin your work for my organization," Karrde said. "I will warn you now, my expectations for you are extremely high. You have proven through the years that you are willing to face challenges head-on and are bright enough to solve any puzzle that appears before you."

He procured a sheet of flimsy from his pocket and placed it in Darvix's hands, "I'll take my leave now. Remember, Zorvan…You're in my debt."

"I'll never forget," Darvix said quietly. "Thank you."

Karrde smiled and offered Darvix his hand, which he shook in turn, "Welcome to the fringe, Mr. Zorvan. I have a feeling you were meant for our lifestyle."

Talon Karrde nodded and left the bridge to return to his shuttle. As the door closed behind him, Darvix moved towards the command chair. He ran his hand across the leather cover and the keypad embedded in the armrest. This ship was his now…No, it was on loan to him. He had a tremendous debt to repay, and he was going to fulfill that obligation. He sat in the seat and wrapped his fingers around the ends of the arm rests. Through the forward viewport, he could see Karrde's shuttle returning to his own ship.

"What are our orders from Karrde?" Vik asked.

Darvix unfolded the sheet of flimsy and read from it, "Prove your innocence. Take Mentzer down."

Kasari smiled as she stood behind Darvix, placing a hand on his shoulder, "I rather like these orders."

"I think I do too," Darvix replied as he looked back at Kasari, placing his hand over her own, their fingers intertwining. "Set a course for the Imperial Remnant territories. It's time to begin our lives as smugglers and information brokers."

Moments later, the Wayferer-class transport disappeared into hyperspace. At that very moment, a new chapter began in the life of Darvix Zorvan. No longer was he bound by the laws of government or the orders of the military. He was a smuggler. He was an information broker. Most of all, he was his own man. He was free to serve the Galaxy in a manner in which he saw fit.

He was going to like this new life.


	25. The Rogue Jedi

_A note from the author: Apologies for the late update, I've been battling computer issues all day. In any case, this is it, the final post of the Darvix Zorvan trilogy. Thank you to everyone who has read and commented since I started posting in the summer. Over the next few days I'll add a few more unofficial chapters to this fic that contain an alternate ending as well as a little companion vignette, but for all intents and purposes this is the end. Thank you again, all. _

**Epilogue – The Rogue Jedi**  
_Three years later, 33 ABY_

Wedge Antilles looked around the smoky cantina as he waited for the contact to arrive. Two days earlier he had received an unusual request from Alliance intelligence. They had asked him to meet up with an informant on Tatooine who claimed to have information regarding the disaster on Jaminere that had occurred three years earlier. The informant had requested specifically to meet with two people, himself and Jedi Master Luke Skywalker. Alliance Intel apparently felt that this source was credible and had decided to send both of them.

"I can't believe you grew up here," Wedge said as he nursed a cold mug of brandy.

"Neither can I," Luke replied. "I spent my childhood and teenaged years harvesting moisture and Leia got to play princess on Alderaan."

Wedge chuckled. At the far end of the cantina he spotted a figure walking towards them. He looked to be a man in his mid-thirties with black, slightly graying hair and deep emerald green eyes. Wedge knew this man. No one had seen him in nearly three years, leading many around the Galaxy to question whether or not the Alliance's most wanted man was dead or alive. Part of Wedge was surprised to see him, but he suspected that one day he would turn up again to clear his name. To Wedge, it made perfect sense why the informant had requested an audience with himself and Skywalker.

The man took a seat in front of them, "Master Skywalker, General Antilles."

"It's good to see you, Dap," Luke said.

Darvix looked well, Wedge noted. He was smiling these days. As long as he had known Dap, he had seen a man that was constantly absorbed in his thoughts. At times he looked as if he had the weight of the Galaxy on his shoulders. Today he looked as relaxed as Wedge had ever seen him. It was almost as if he were looking at an entirely different person now. Apparently the last three years had been kind to him. If anyone deserved a few breaks in life, it was him.

"As soon as the Alliance sees this they will take down Senator Mentzer," Darvix said, placing a datapad on top of the table. "It took me a long time to get this much information, he covered his tracks well."

Luke picked up the datapad and began to scan over it, "What can you tell us?"

"Shortly before the end of the Yuuzhan Vong War a group of Imperial traditionalists began working on a plot to take back Coruscant in the name of Emperor Palpatine," Darvix explained. "Their leader was a high-ranking military captain by the name of Reyov Naolin, a man who had led another attempt to take Coruscant sixteen years ago."

"The Phantom program," Wedge said. "Do you have proof?"

Darvix nodded an affirmative, "Talon Karrde dug up holovideo evidence of a reborn Phantom Fighter project about three years ago. For a long time that was the only tangible evidence we had that a conspiracy was taking place."

"How have you linked Mentzer to this?" Luke asked.

"Encrypted Imperial holonet traffic," Darvix replied. "Senator Mentzer made a single trip to Bastion two months before the events on Jaminere. In a private communiqué between himself and Captain Naolin, he agreed to allow the Phantom starfighters to lay waste to the capitol city in an effort to draw Alliance forces away from Coruscant and into a defensive positioning over Jaminere."

Wedge took the datapad from Luke and scanned it over, "If this information is accurate, you've proven your innocence."

"It will be nice not to have bounty hunters chasing after me for a change," Darvix admitted with a grin. "Though I have grown rather fond of my wanted poster. Shows off my good side."

Wedge laughed, "We'll make sure this information makes its way to the proper authorities… Tell me, what happened to you after you escaped three years ago?"

"I didn't have many places to go or people I could turn to…" Darvix paused. "The only man I could think of to plead for help was Talon Karrde. At that time I was already in his debt. When he agreed to take me in and hide me from the Alliance a sort of life debt formed between us… I had no way of repaying him, so he gave me the option of working for his organization."

"You're part of the Smuggler's Alliance?" Luke asked.

"Yes, but more than that I work directly under him," Darvix explained. "He uses my services much the same way that you did, Master Skywalker. I'm a hunter of relics. For the last three years I've been scouring the Galaxy for answers to age-old mysteries. If there is a puzzle that needs to be solved, Karrde sends me to solve it."

So he was working for Talon Karrde now. Wedge shook his head and smiled. How could he not have seen it before? The life of a smuggler and an information dealer, it was perfect for Darvix. He had always had a need to find adventure but had always been hampered by the strict rules of the military and laws of the government. Now he was free to move about the Galaxy as he pleased, so long as he didn't get caught. Wedge suspected he didn't have to worry about that. He had spent the last three years successfully evading capture.

"How are you personally?" Luke asked.

Darvix looked thoughtful for a moment, "Things have never been better… Kess turned seventeen a few weeks ago and is showing signs of Force sensitivity. I may be sending her your way in a few years, Luke.

"I'd be honored to instruct her, but she's already got a Jedi Master at her disposal," Luke said. "How's Kasari?"

"No complaints," Darvix replied with a wry smile.

Wedge raised a brow, _What was that supposed to mean?_

"Dap, if I might ask a question," Luke began. "The last time I saw you, you shared with me the revelations you found about Revan's flagship. Have you put any thought into what he meant by 'The Force would cease to exist as we know it'?"

Wedge looked from Darvix to Luke, "You're going to have to let me in on this."

"Sorry, General," Darvix responded. "I had forgotten I never told you about what happened to me during those six years I was AWOL."

Just prior to the Yuuzhan Vong War, Darvix had disappeared from the face of the Galaxy. The official story told by the Jedi Academy was that he had been killed trying to navigate an asteroid field in his X-Wing. Six years later he had reappeared in the Coruscant system alive and well. Wedge had pressed him for answers as to where he had been, Darvix was unable or unwilling to answer. According to him, he was in possession of information far too sensitive to share with anyone but Skywalker.

"Fifteen years ago I was given an assignment by Master Skywalker," Darvix explained. "I was to discover what happened to an ancient Sith Lord by the name of Darth Revan and his disciple, known only to me as the Jedi Exile. My search led me to an ancient Sith space station outside the boundary of the Galaxy and within the Intergalactic Void."

"How could you have done that?" Wedge asked. "You would have hit the Hyperspace Disturbance."

The Hyperspace Disturbance was a field at the edges of the Galaxy that prevented starships from entering the immense space beyond the galactic borders known as the Intergalactic Void. Little was known about it, not even what the cause of it was.

"I discovered a set of hyperspace coordinates left by Revan before departing," Darvix said. "It led us through an exploit similar to Vector Prime. How the Vong failed to discover us I will never understand, but we made it out of the Galaxy undetected. After three years of traveling we stumbled onto the Sith station. Aboard it we found Revan's flagship, the _Ebon Hawk_. His disciple the Exile had managed to record Revan's last prophecy, in which he foretold a great and final war with the Sith."

"Fail," Darvix continued, "and countless sentient beings from reaches far beyond our comprehension would suffer as a result. Succeed, and the Force would cease to exist as we know it, ushering in a new era of prosperity for the Galaxy. I've spent the last six years of my life pondering what he meant by that, but I think I might know what he was trying to tell us."

Luke tilted his head, "What is it?'

"We'll be able to send a successful Outbound Flight," Darvix said. "General Antilles said it himself. There is only one known way now to get past the Hyperspace Disturbance, and there is no guarantee that it will be there forever…I believe that in this great and final war with the Sith, should we succeed, The Force will take on a new form and the Hyperspace Disturbance will vanish."

"Do you have anything to confirm this?" Luke asked.

"My stars, no," Darvix laughed. "This is all wild speculation on my part. The Force is far too mysterious a thing for me to comprehend, so who knows if we'll ever be able to send a true Outbound Flight? Now, gentleman, I'm afraid I must take my leave of you. The Bounty Hunters don't know I've cleared my name yet, so it would be best for me to remain on the move for a while longer… but I have something I need to give to each of you."

Wedge watched as Darvix reached into his jacket, withdrawing his lightsaber and another object concealed in his right hand. He set them down on the table. Next to the lightsaber was a pair of Kalidor wings given to every starfighter pilot in the Alliance. Wedge knew that Darvix had been given his wings seventeen years ago. He had worn them proudly as a member of Rogue Squadron. To a pilot, the wings were proof of their service and their skill. Darvix stood and smiled at both he and Luke.

"Thank you," Darvix said somberly. "Few people have shown me the faith that you have. I could not have become the man I am now without your support."

Luke picked up the lightsaber. Wedge knew that this gesture meant. Darvix was saying his final goodbyes to both of them. He picked up the set of Kalidor wings on the table and held them in his hands. When a pilot gave their wings up, it meant two things. The first was that the pilot was officially retiring. It also signified a deep gratitude to the person the pilot gave the wings to. He watched as Darvix shook Luke's hand. As he turned to face Wedge, his heels snapped together and his hand came to his forehead. As a sign of respect, Darvix gave him one last salute.

Wedge returned the salute and moved to Darvix, embracing him for a moment, "I know there haven't been enough people to tell you this in your life, but I want you to know how proud I am of you. Never forget who you are, Dap."

"Thank you, sir," Darvix said quietly.

Wedge wasn't sure if he would ever see Darvix again. His new life meant that he was forced to live in the shadows, serving the citizens of the Galaxy in silence. Wedge suspected that he would have it no other way. Darvix Zorvan was a good man who longed to see those close to him happy. Now he was free of narrow laws and rules. He was only bound by his own personal code of ethics, and his code was simple.

Those who were suffering deserved help.

***

* * *

Darvix stepped out of the YT-1930 transport and onto the floor of the hangar bay. He made his way past the empty spot of the hangar where his X-Wing was typically parked and into the command and living module of the Wayfarer. It was time to depart the Tatooine system, but he could spare a few minutes to relax. He approached the door to his quarters and keyed for it to open. As he stepped in, he spotted Kasari sitting beside the baby's crib. She held her index finger over her lips, signaling for him to be as quiet as possible. Darvix smiled as he walked towards his wife and daughter.

"How is she?" he whispered.

"I just got her to sleep," she replied.

He smiled once more as he looked at Kasari. At one point in his life, he thought he could never love someone again. Little did he realize what was there before him. For fifteen years Kasari had stood by his side, braving every challenge and rejoicing in every triumph with him. He would never be able to express his thanks to her. Now they were married and now they shared the responsibility of raising a child together in this hostile Galaxy. Darvix had no doubt in his mind that they would succeed. They had overcome so much over the years and had learned so much.

"I'm going to head to the bridge for a bit to relay our new orders to Vik," Darvix said. "I'll be back in a little bit so you can get some rest."

"Thank you," Kasari responded. "How did things go with Master Skywalker and General Antilles?"

"Perfectly," He replied honestly. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss upon her lips. "Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Constantly," Kasari smiled and returned the kiss. "Now go tell Vik where we're going. I want to get some sleep."

Darvix nodded and peered into the crib briefly. Sleeping serenely was their daughter, Lilea, named after their close friend from Rogue Squadron whose life had been taken too soon. Darvix gently ran the back of his fingers along her cheek. So this is what having a family felt like. He knew he was going to like this feeling. Darvix quietly left his quarters and proceeded to the bridge, where his close friend Vik Kelrune manned the astrogations console.

"Kess is hailing us," Vik said. "Patching her through."

His niece's voice rang through the radio, "I'm preparing to make the jump to Hyperspace. How long do you figure it will take for you to catch up with me?"

"About a week," Darvix replied. "Soon as you get to Tanaab check in with Wes Janson. He'll show you to the archives. Do try to stay out of trouble this time, will you?"

"No promises," Kess replied. "See you in a week."

Darvix watched as the X-Wing piloted by his niece disappeared into light-speed. He turned back to Vik, "Set a course for the _Errant Venture_. We'll make a quick supply stop there then proceed to Tanaab."

"Understood," Vik said. "Astrogations set, ready to go?"

Darvix grinned, "Absolutely. Let's go have an adventure."

With that, the _Wayfarer_ and Darvix Zorvan disappeared into Hyperspace.

**X-WING: RESURRECTION OF A ROGUE****  
**_THE THIRD AND FINAL INSTALLATION OF THE DARVIX ZORVAN TRILOGY_

**THE END**


	26. Bonus Content: At My Side

**Author's Notes: **"At My Side" is a companion short story that occurs during the events of Resurrection of a Rogue, taking place in the three years Darvix is on the run from the Galactic Alliance. This is a departure for me due simply to the fact that this little story is the first time I've ever written a fic in first-person.

**At My Side**

"Stop coddling her."

She really knows just what to say to make me tick. It doesn't matter where I am or what I'm doing, somewhere in that brain of hers she has formulated the precise words needed to press my buttons. It was almost as if she thrived on my frustration. If I was training with my lightsaber she'd chide me for using too much movement in my motions. Whenever I was analyzing data Karrde would send me, she'd shake her head and question my conclusions. Every time I stepped on the bridge, she would tell me I should do something about those few strands of grey hair that were cropping up. No, I will not do something about the grey. It's a very dignified look.

Now she was taking exception with the way I was handling Kess. I'm too soft on her, she says. I don't give her enough freedom, she claims.

"She's fine," I say dismissively as I try to turn my attention back to the stack of datapads on my desk.

"No, she's not," Kasari responds. "All she's doing right now is practicing with her lightsaber and spending time in the flight simulator. Give her some responsibility, Dap."

I rolled my eyes, "She's not ready to take on one of Karrde's assignments."

"Like hell she's not," Kasari snapped. "How old were you when you left for the Starfighter Academy to start flying multi-million credit military warships?"

"That was different!" I told her. "I had no family and no means of supporting myself."

She fixed me with a cold stare, "You managed, didn't you?"

By that point I was fed up. I didn't need Kasari telling me how to take care of the only family I had left in the Galaxy. I wasn't about to put Kess in danger by sending her out on some fool's errand for Karrde. That was my job. I would be the one taking the risks. I would be the one getting shot at by security details. There was no way I was going to let Kess get wrapped up in my dangerous lifestyle. If Kasari wanted Kess to help out, she could sort through datapads.

"Are we done here?" I spat.

Kasari frowned and turned on her heels, walking out of my office. I tried to scan over another datapad but set it down after a few moments. After knowing someone for so long, you begin to feel guilty when you mistreat them. It was kind of amusing, really. Ten years ago I would have snapped at her and not said another word. She would then leave and stew over the tongue-lashing I had given her. Hours later I could walk up to her and she'd still be fuming.

I'll admit it. I felt bad for snapping at Kasari. I really was beginning to go soft. I stood up (remarking to myself that I wasn't nearly as limber as I was thirteen years ago) and strode towards the door, leaving my office and scanning the hallway. Seeing that she wasn't there, I proceeded to the command bridge to see if she was at her tactical post. Unfortunately, the only person present was my astrogations officer, Vik Kelrune.

"Have you seen Kasari?" I asked.

Vik glanced over his shoulder, "If this is another one of your lover's quarrels, forget it. Last time I got involved I about had a pair of lightsabers at my throat."

I glared at Vik, "You're going to get my lightsaber shoved somewhere unpleasant if you keep suggesting things."

I really wasn't in the mood to deal with Vik at the moment and decided to leave the command bridge without another word. At some point he had gotten it into his head that Kasari and I were having some sort of relationship behind his back. Vik was constantly trying to get us to spill details of our non-existent love life. There were times I wondered if he was a teenaged girl trapped in the body of a thirty-four year old man. The next time he told me to "just get it over with and bed her," I would be forced to inflict physical harm upon him.

I found Kasari hiding in the mess. Just as I suspected, she was still fuming, casting me an angry look before ignoring my existence again, "You know, you're kind of cute when you're coming up with images of me with vibroblades sticking out of my back in my head."

She looked at me for a brief moment, choosing not to respond.

"I'm sorry I was short with you," I said, rubbing the back of my neck as I sat down beside her, "and I thought about what you said."

"I have a hard time believing that," Kasari replied.

I placed my hand over hers, "You're right about Kess. She deserves the chance to prove herself… I've got a couple of low-level assignments from Karrde that I've been putting off for a while. We can get her started with one of those."

"Good," She said, taking her hand away from mine.

"Still mad at me?" I asked.

"A bit."

I shifted in my seat to face her, "Anything I can do to make up for my terrible misdeed towards you?"

"Give me a minute," she said. "I have to think of something that's both worthwhile to me and humiliating to you."

After all this time, it was important for Kasari and me to smooth out these little tiffs. We both knew how to push each other's buttons and knew just what to say to diffuse the tension. To be honest, I don't know where I would be without her. I'm the kind of person who is liable to do something outrageous. Kasari is the one person in the Galaxy who can keep me grounded in reality. I can't name a single person I'd trust more than her.

For thirteen years, she has always been at my side.

~*~

* * *

As soon as we're out of here, I'm going to kill him. This was far and away the worst situation he has ever gotten me into. This was worse than the time a Kryat Dragon was chasing after me. It was worse than the garbage disposal I fell into while trying to get away from a group of Stormtroopers. Hands down, this was the most awful thing that arrogant bastard had ever forced me into. Darvix Zorvan was going to pay dearly for this. My revenge was going to be swift and painful. Let me be upfront, I'm willing to do all sorts of crazy things for him. This, on the other hand, he forced me into.

I'm wearing a dress.

That nerf-herder had put me into a little, black Lashaa-silk dress. What's worse is that he dragged me out to one of Karrde's overly elaborate functions so he could rub elbows with other figures in the smuggling world. Contacts were everything to Darvix. The more people he knew, the more people he could exploit. That was all well and good, he was more than welcome to meet new people to take advantage of. What was not acceptable was dragging me into this.

Of course, I'm getting away from the larger problem. I'm wearing a dress! I admit, I've always been a bit on the tomboyish side. I didn't have dolls as a girl but rather model Rebellion-era starfighters (the replica Red Two X-Wing from the Battle of Yavin was my favorite). Hell, prior to joining the Jedi Academy I wanted to be a bartender. Frilly things weren't my style, yet here I was at some fancy gala in a little black dress.

"Relax," Darvix said to me, "you look fine."

I resisted the urge to rip out his trachea and strangle him with it, "I look like a cheap Corellian hooker."

"Nonsense," he replied. "A cheap Corellian hooker wouldn't be wearing that lovely lipstick."

And the makeup. He had insisted on it, the smug bastard. The last time I wore makeup was for a formal school dance I had gone to as a teenager, "You're a dead man, Zorvan."

And so we spent the evening conversing with other smugglers in Karrde's organization. It was the same routine every time. Darvix would introduce himself as the Captain of the Wayfarer and then gesture to me, explaining that I was his executive officer. It took every fiber of my being to keep a smile plastered on my face. My ankles and calves were starting to balk because of the heels I was wearing. Every few moments I'd have to tug at the bottom of the little black dress to keep it in place. While Darvix was talking with Karrde, Shadaa offered me a sympathetic smile. At least she knew the pain I was going through.

Eventually I managed to slip away. I walked out of the large social hall and out onto one of the nearby balconies. Almost immediately I regretted it. It was cold outside, and the little black dress did little to protect my legs and arms. Yet another reason Darvix was going to suffer by my hands. I folded my arms across my chest to try and stay warm. At least it was better than being back in there. The next smuggler to stare at my chest would lose his eyes.

"A little chilly out here, don't you think?" Darvix said as he leaned against the balcony railing.

"Force help me, Zorvan," I replied, "I am going to kill you for this."

Just then I heard the sound of music coming from the social hall. My stomach sank as a wide grin formed on Darvix's face. Before I could argue (or flee) he grabbed my wrist and pulled me back inside. I cursed as I nearly tripped over my heels, all the while trying to free myself from Darvix. I recognized the music as being some sort of a waltz. Of course it was, Karrde and overly elegant music? I'd be shocked if it were anything less.

"Ever danced to a waltz before?" Darvix asked me.

I raised a brow, "No. I don't dance."

"I'd say it's high time to learn, wouldn't you?"

"What? No!" I protested.

Of course, that didn't stop him. He took my hand into his and placed my other hand on his shoulder. Before I could do anything he placed his hand on the small of my back and drew me into him. Suffice to say, I was both surprised and embarrassed. My cheeks felt like they were on fire. No doubt I was blushing a deeper shade of red than Tatooine at sunset. Words failed me at that moment. I couldn't even begin to describe how uncomfortable I was.

"A waltz is fairly straightforward," Darvix explained. "Think of it in fairly quickly connected counts of three. One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three. All you have to do is count and follow my lead."

I'm not ashamed to admit that I stepped on his toes a dozen or so times within the first thirty seconds. Honestly, I was taken aback by how patient he was. Normally when I did something wrong he would immediately snap at me and spend the following twenty minutes chewing me out. I remember one particular instance back at the Academy where he lectured me for an hour over my lightsaber technique. Now he was smiling and laughing, something I wasn't used to seeing out of him. It almost looked as if he were having fun trying to teach me how to dance.

"Where did you learn how to dance?" I asked.

"My sister taught me," he explained. "She loved to dance but always needed a partner. You should have seen the Ithorian two-step she tried to teach me."

I could only shake my head, "I never figured you for being a dancer. Part of me wishes I could hold my own on the floor."

"You're not doing so bad."

I hadn't even noticed that I wasn't stepping on his feet anymore. I didn't look particularly graceful, but I was holding my own now. What more could you say? Darvix Zorvan was a brilliant music stopped for a moment. As I tried to back away from him (thinking that he'd appreciate a bit of personal space), he increased his hold on me, "The song's over, Dap."

"Thank you, Kasari," he said to me.

This was all starting to get a bit surreal, "You're the one who trapped me on the dance floor."

"There aren't a whole lot of people who have the patience to put up with me," he said. "Somehow you've managed to do that for thirteen years."

"Someone has to keep you out of trouble," I replied.

He smiled faintly, "Sometimes I feel like I'm holding you back. There's always a little voice in the back of my head telling me that you can do better than working under scum like me."

"Oh, shut up," I said. "If I thought you were holding me back, I would have left years ago and taken some other post with the Jedi Academy."

"It means a lot to me, you know," he continued. "Force knows I'd probably be dead now if it weren't for you."

I wasn't quite sure how to respond. Where was he going with this?

"Even someone as stubborn as me begins to realize the importance of someone like you," he said somberly. "I probably should have acknowledged my feelings a long time ago."

"Dap, what are you trying to…"

I felt his other arm wrap around me, drawing my body closer to his. I looked up at him (though admittedly I didn't have to tilt my head all that far, starfighter pilots had a tendency to be a bit shorter than the average man). My heart skipped a beat. We didn't utter a word as we finally admitted to each other how we felt. We didn't need to. As his lips pressed softly against mine, I allowed myself to become lost in his embrace. How long had we both felt this way? It didn't really matter, I realized.

He had always been at my side. As far as I was concerned, I would always be at his.

~*~

* * *

I've never been so nervous in my life.

I once ejected from a burning starfighter into a hard vacuum and I felt more composed than I am now. Hell, even during my final exams at the Starfighter Academy I didn't feel quite this anxious. Right now it felt as if my heart was going to leap out of my throat and hitch a ride on the next transport to Tatooine. My stomach was faring no better. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought someone had reached inside me and was twisting my intestines into knots. I nervously tugged at the sleeves of my black formal coat.

"You okay, Dap?" Karrde asked me. "You look like you're trying to navigate through The Maw."

"I might stand a chance of breathing properly if I was trying to fly between black holes," I replied.

Just as I was about to eject the contents of my lunch onto the bridge of the _Wild Karrde_, she passed through the doors and made her way towards me. Kasari looked absolutely stunning. Now, I don't mean the sort of "stunning" some sludge news tabloid would associate with a holostar (though in my biased opinion she could hold her own with any holodrama actress), she was simply beautiful. Her smile and the way she carried herself exuded a sense of confidence and unadulterated joy. All of that was complimented by the elegant, flowing white dress she wore.

This really was happening.

She smiled at me as she stood across from me, Karrde in between us, "Relax, Dap. It's just you, me, Karrde, and his entire crew watching. No pressure."

"Pressure? Me?" I smiled in turn. Thank the Force she recognized that I was feeling rather anxious. "Perish the thought. This is just another ploy to get you into a dress."

"Nice try, flyboy," she replied. "I willingly chose to be in a dress this time."

Karrde cleared his throat, "I do hate to interrupt, but are you to ready to proceed?"

Oh that's right. We're at a wedding.

Our wedding.

I hadn't even noticed that Kess was standing next to Kasari and Vik was standing next to me. Neither of us had many close friendships beyond those that we had either brought with us to Karrde's smuggler operation or had formed after we began to work for him. Vik and I had been close friends since our days at the academy. Kasari and Kess had become the best of companions in the year and a half we had worked together. We didn't have to do much thinking before asking them to be the witnesses for our wedding.

"Friends and comrades," Karrde addressed the crew that had assembled on the bridge of the _Wild Karrde_, "We're gathered here to witness the eternal union of Kasari Lisae and Darvix Zorvan. Both Kasari and Dap have asked that this ceremony be kept brief, so we'll proceed straight to the vows. Do you have the promise ring?"

I looked over at Vik and whispered, "I swear if you do that 'I'm going to pretend I've lost the ring' routine, I will knock your teeth out."

He merely grinned at me and placed the ring in my hand as Karrde continued, "I know you have prepared your own vows. Please exchange them at this time."

I had to swallow to get rid of the lump in my throat. I smiled once more at Kasari and took her hand in mine, running my thumb softly over her skin, "Kasari, I give you this promise ring as a symbol of my eternal love and deep gratitude. As I place it on your finger, I give to you my heart and a promise of devotion." I carefully (nervously) slid the ring onto her slender finger. "I give you this ring to wear with love and joy, as a reminder of my love for you and my thanks for the years of companionship we have shared and the many years we have yet to enjoy."

"With…" I took paused to take a deep, steadying breath as my emotions began to get the better of me. "With this ring I pledge to you that I will forever be your husband. With the Force as my witness, I gladly marry you and give my life to you. With this ring, I wed you and bestow upon you all of the gifts and treasures of my mind, heart, and soul."

Kasari had to wipe a few stray tears from her eyes before she responded to my vow, "I will wear this ring with joy. Whenever I look at it, I will remember this wonderful day and the vows we have made."

I felt Vik pat me on the shoulder as Kasari prepared to give me her vows, "Darvix, I give you this promise ring as a symbol of my eternal love and deep gratitude. As I place it on your finger, I give to you my heart and a promise of devotion." She placed the ring on my finger before continuing, "I give you this ring to wear with love and joy, a reminder of my devotion and love for you and my thanks for the many years of companionship we have shared and the wonderful lessons you have taught."

"With this ring," she continued (I noticed she seemed to be handling her emotions better than me), "I pledge to you that I will forever be your wife. With the Force as my witness, I gladly marry you and give my life to you. With this ring, I wed you and bestow upon you all of the gifts and treasures of my mind, heart, and soul."

_Hang in there_, I told myself, "I will wear this ring with joy," I said. "Whenever I look at it, I will remember this wonderful day and the vows we have made."

I took both of her hands into my own as Karrde spoke once more, "Darvix, do you take this woman to be your wife and companion, to be at her side through triumph and tragedy, for time and all eternity?"

"I do," I said (somewhat proud of myself for managing to find my voice again).

"And do you, Kasari, take this man to be your husband and companion, to be at his side through triumph and tragedy, for time and all eternity?"

We had come this far, yet I couldn't get over the sense of dread in my stomach. She could still say no. Hell, she probably should say no. She could still wake up and realize she was about to marry a shady piece of scum that was more at home amongst smugglers and criminals than the civilized Galaxy. This was her out. If she wanted to save herself, all she would have to do is utter one word and it would all be off.

"I do," she replied.

A few feelings ran through me at that moment. First I felt numb. Just a few ticks later a flood of relief washed over me, which was followed up by an overwhelming sense of joy. I looked over at Karrde, who smiled and held his hands up in the air, as if presenting us to the crew, "As the captain of this illicit smuggling vessel, I pronounce you husband and wife-"

"Now get it over with and kiss each other already!" Vik interjected.

You didn't have to tell me twice. We embraced and kissed, causing the crew gathered on the bridge to erupt in cheers (my good drinking buddy Aves being one of the most vocal). As we broke apart from the kiss, Kasari's lips hovered near my ears. She whispered seven words to me that I will never forget.

"I will always be at your side."

~*~

* * *

He ran his fingers through my hair as I lay in the bed where I was recovering my strength. As it turns out, a nine month-long ordeal that culminates in one of the most physically painful and trying experiences a human being could go through can really take the life out of you. When I was a young teenager, I had broken my leg playing shockball. At the time I was certain that I would never feel worse pain in my life. Suffice to say, I was wrong, so very wrong. No matter. Now it was behind us and we could continue with life as normal.

What am I talking about? Life would never be the same for us again!

"How are you feeling?" Darvix asked.

I tried to think of some clever analogies to describe how I felt, but I was too exhausted to come up with anything particularly witty, "Better. Tired."

"Still mad at me?"

"Well, I don't want to kill you for putting me through this anymore. Critically wound you, perhaps. I might even let you off with only a moderate beating."

Darvix laughed softly as he intertwined his fingers with mine, "Think we're in over our heads?"

"When are we not in over our heads?" I replied. "We've spent fourteen years getting into more trouble than we know how to deal with. Remember that time we had to disguise you as a woman to sneak you past that cult?"

"Don't remind me," Darvix said bitterly.

A noise came from the end of the bed. Before I could say anything, Darvix stood and rushed over to the crib as infant began to cry. He reached in and lifted up the child, cradling her in his arms. At that moment, there was an odd look in Darvix's eyes as he looked down at the newborn. I knew what was running through his mind, because I felt the same thing when the doctor placed her in my arms for the first time.

This was our daughter. This was the child the Galaxy had entrusted us to raise and to love, to protect and to nurture. At that moment I felt the enormity of that responsibility, and to be honest, I was frightened. I didn't think I was cut out to raise a child, to be a mother. Even after I've had a few hours to gather my thoughts, I was still somewhat scared. Am I really ready for this?

No doubt the same thoughts were running through Darvix's head. He was an analytical man, so I knew he was playing through a multitude of scenarios in his mind. He was probably thinking about how he would teach her to play the keybed. Dap was probably thinking years down the line, when he'd have to restrain himself from committing an act of murder when some boy took his daughter on her first date. Someday, he would have to give away his precious little girl to another man.

I watched as Darvix gently rocked our child back to sleep. I was taken aback by the sight of him with our daughter in his arms. It looked as if he was overwhelmed by his emotions. As I reached out with the Force, I could feel the conflicting thoughts. He was scared just as I was and continue to be, but he also felt a tremendous amount of joy. Darvix looked at me, and almost instantly I felt all of my concerns washing away.

"I'm a daddy," he said quietly.

I smiled, "Yes, you are Dap. Not only that, but you're going to be a great daddy."

Darvix sat down beside me once more, our child still in his arms, "A great daddy? Right now I'm a terrible parent. Both of us are, really."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, we still haven't given her a name."

We had agreed that we wouldn't name her until after she was born. Well, she had been born. It was probably time to rectify that, "Any thoughts?"

"I…" Darvix blinked, "I have no idea. I mean, I've thought of a few names but I don't want to make a mistake here."

"Well, tell me one you've thought of."

"There's Wynssa-"

I held my hand up, "We are not naming my daughter after some holostar you drooled over as a boy."

We were silent for a long while. If we were having this much trouble simply selecting a name, what did this mean for us going forward? Was this some sort of indicator of how difficult it was going to be to raise a child? That was a frightening thought.

"Lilea," I said, breaking the silence.

Darvix looked, "Lilea. I like that." He looked down at our daughter, still asleep in his arms, "Lilea Zorvan… You're named after a good friend of ours, you know."

"Shhh," I chided. "Let her sleep."

Darvix nodded and stood, taking her back to the crib and gently laying her down in it, "Remember, Lilea… I will always be at your side." He looked up at me, "and I will always be by yours."

I don't remember when I fell asleep, but I awoke hours later to find that Darvix was still there, sitting beside me fast asleep. I gently placed my hand on his shoulder, "Dap?"

"Hm..?" he blinked awake. "Are you alright, Kasari?"

"I'm fine," I said. "Just… I just wanted to tell you something."

"What's that?"

"I love you, Dap," I said quietly.

He smiled and leaned over me for a moment, placing a kiss upon my lips, "and I love you, Kasari."

I'm not sure what the future holds for Darvix and myself. All I know is that we will endure the challenges and triumphs together and in the same manner we always have. We would face the Galaxy head on.

He would be by my side, and I would be by his.

**The End**


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